


From Nothing

by sabershadowkat



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:56:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4436315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabershadowkat/pseuds/sabershadowkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the year 2007. The Slayerettes are all in their mid-twenties, still fighting the forces of darkness in Sunnydale, with Giles. Spike is found by Buffy on a rescue operation, and is stunned by his condition. She vows to herself to bring him back, so he can exact revenge, but finds herself drawing closer and closer to the vampire. Post Graduation.</p><p>Warning: Contains issues of rape and extreme violence; Based on Poem at end of fic</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics: Phil Collins/Genesis.

"I'm nothing without her."  
-Spike, Lover's Walk

Prologue

 

It seems in a moment,  
Your whole world can shatter,  
Like dust in your hand  
Falling to the floor.  
How can life ever be the same?

It took three months for one of the minions to get up enough guts to go in to see the master. And when Manuel Santiago finally did, things changed around the hacienda.

For the first month, Manuel, the Cuban vampire, ordered what he now believed were his minions to bring a live human into the bedroom, where the master laid, and slit his or her throat, so the blood would bubble forth. Then they would hold the dying human's bleeding neck to the emaciated master's mouth, forcing the demon within him to feed, until he was physically healthy once more.

The second month, Manuel forced his sire onto his stomach on the edge of the bed, then proceeded to fuck him. The master uttered no cry as his tender flesh was stretched and abrased by the intrusion. His pale face reflected no emotions, no consciousness, nothing.

By the third month, Manuel had become the new master, and the old one was kept locked in the bedroom. He was always nude, tended by a Eunuch vampire created especially for him. Every day, he'd been force-fed to keep him alive and healthy. Manuel wanted a creature of beauty to show-off to the other masters, to allow the other masters to play with.

Months turned into years, and the old master was a silent, beautiful plaything for the creatures of the night. He'd been fucked and beaten and sometimes brought out for curious eyes, but he never uttered a single word, a single cry, a single sound. And if, perchance, another vampire would look him in the eye, they would become limp and afraid and would leave shortly thereafter.

For there was no life in the old master's eyes.

There was nothing.

But one day, things changed. Manuel packed up his hacienda, including his toy, and announced they were moving to Norte Americano. To California.

To La Boca Del Infierno.

 

Part One

 

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Buffy Summers asked, peering through the small night- vision binoculars.

"That's it," Willow Rosenberg answered, looking down at the hand-drawn map in her lap. "‘X' marks the spot."

"Too bad all we get is a lot of dust, instead of buried treasure," the twenty-six year old, blond Slayer said. She surveyed the area around the large, Spanish-style home on the outskirts of Sunnydale. "I see three, maybe four vamps roaming around. Pretty weak security, for a master vampire of Manuel Santiago's reputation."

"Maybe he doesn't need much security because of his reputation," the hacker cum witch cum Watcher-in-training stated.

"Or they could be armed," Xander Harris said over the radio clipped to each member of the small team's ears. The radio was voice activated, with two microphones that rested on either side of the wearer's throat, attached by an elastic band around the neck. "Check out Thuggee number three. The one with the sombrero."

"That's not a sombrero, doofus," Cordelia Chase-Harris said, her voice ringing loud and clear over the radio. "That's a fedora."

"Sombrero, fedora, the guy's got a big hat," the dark-haired, ex-Marine replied.

"You're right, I see a definite high-projectile weapon," Buffy said. "Jot that down, Wills."

"Check. One definite high-projectile weapon, or ‘gun' for short," Willow said. Buffy glanced over her shoulder at her best friend and gave her a look. "Hey, not all Watchers are as stuffy as Giles."

"Giles is not-so-stuffed anymore, Willow," the blond replied, taking up the binoculars again. "Hasn't been since high school graduation."

"He was losing his feathers long before that -- right around the same time dear-departed Wesley arrived," Xander commented.

"Wow, Wesley Wyndham-Price," Buffy said, adjusting her sights. "I haven't heard that name in awhile."

"That's because Cordy's been keeping her mouth shut," he replied. "No more ‘Wesley this' and ‘Wesley that' and ‘Wesle--eipe!'"

Willow and Buffy both chuckled at their friend's sudden cut-off. "Serves you right, Xand," Willow said.

"So, have we seen enough, oh Watcher-type-woman?" Buffy asked, rolling onto her back and staring up at the clear, night sky. "I have a ton of orders to process." Her mind danced over the figures and her stock, and she reminded herself she needed to purchase more stone gargoyles for her ‘fantasy' mail-order business.

"I think so," Willow replied, looking at her notebook once more. "Security, perimeter, general layout, possible entrances and exits -- yup, looks like enough."

"Hear that Cord? We are outta here," Xander said. "See you babes tomorrow at 2100 hours."

"Bye Xand, bye Cordy," Buffy said, as she and Willow climbed to their feet. She pulled off the radio and shoved it into the bag of reconnaissance equipment. "When are we going to hit?"

"Depends on the blueprints," Willow answered, opening the door to the jeep. "I need to see where Santiago would mostly likely be keeping those people."

"Too bad we just can't fireball the place," the Slayer sighed. "It worked so well last year."

"Yeah, but it took the SDFD almost two days to put out the fire," she said. "Almost lost a fireman, too."

"Right, I remember," Buffy said. "No flammable objects for the Slayer."

The ride to Buffy's house was made in companionable silence, each girl thinking of the work they needed to do for their ‘real life' day jobs. Willow was co-owner of a small bookstore with Giles, which converted into Slayer Central once the ‘We're Closed' sign was turned. The redhead lived in a small, one-bedroom townhome with her familiar, Angel. Given to her by his namesake, Angel was a chocolate and black long-haired Chihuahua, who acted more like a four-legged human than a dog.

Buffy, on the other hand, lived in a sprawling, five-bedroom home with her very blond, blue-eyed cat, Spike. Given to her as a joke by the same vampire who'd given the redhead Angel, the three year old cat acted exactly like his namesake -- territorial, vicious, and completely loyal to the woman he loved, which in this case was her. Most of the house was used for storage of her stock for her business, and the basement was a fully-converted work-out room.

The other members of the small, elite Slaying team were spread throughout Sunnydale. Xander and Cordelia had recently purchased a three-bedroom ranch in Buffy's old neighborhood. Cordy owned her own boutique and Xander had taken over Giles' job at Sunnydale High School as librarian. He figured that someone out of the group should work over the center of the Hellmouth, just in case.

Giles still lived in his tiny home, and had a going-on-four-years, annoying roommate, Ethan Rayne. The two were the complete epitome of The Odd Couple, but, after a harrowing brush with death, Ethan was a new man -- sort of. The spell that Giles and Willow had cast to save Ethan's life prevented the man from ever using magick again. That didn't stop him, however, from creating mischief. His motto was "the world loves a spice of wickedness."

The final member of the small group lived in Los Angeles near Joyce Summers. Angel had chosen his new home specifically to keep an eye on the mother of the Slayer. He came to Sunnydale from time-to-time, helping out when needed, seeking help for the same reasons. And while it was painful for them to see each other, time did indeed help the heart heal, and Buffy and Angel had, at long last, become friends and nothing more.

It was with this rag-tag group of individuals that the world continued to turn, and the people of Sunnydale lived on in oblivion of the danger that surrounded them. The friends had gone their separate ways after high school, only to return stronger and more willing to aid the Slayer and the Watcher in their fight against evil.

For over ten years, Buffy had been the Slayer, called just before she turned sixteen. The oldest and best Slayer on record, she was eventually given free reign over the Hellmouth, while the second Slayer worked in other parts of the world. The Council basically left the team alone, only passing on pertinent books or information in regards to the tiny blond and her hometown. Giles liked it that way, because the Council members had no idea as to the trials and tribulations of the field.

Willow pulled her black jeep in front of Buffy's home, and the Slayer jumped out. "See ya tomorrow, Wills," she said, shouldering her bag.

"‘Night, Buffy," Willow replied. "Scratch Spike behind the ears for me."

"Will do," Buffy said with a grin. "Bye."

As the jeep pulled out of sight, the blond punched in the security code for her front gate and headed up the walk. She noticed that her lilacs needed weeding, and made a mental note to call her gardening service, as she mounted the few steps to her front door.

Punching in a second security number, Buffy let herself into her home and looked around the well-lit foyer. "Spike, I'm home," she called, opening a secret closet door and setting the bag inside with the rest of the weapons. Her cat came bounding into the entryway, his tail swishing back and forth, and he paused a few feet away to study her with his so-blue eyes.

"What, no kiss?" Buffy teased, bending to scoop the feline up in her arms. "Willow said to give you this," she told him, as she petted him behind the ears. The cat butted his nose against her cheek as she made her way into the kitchen, purring loudly. "I don't think so, buddy. You ate earlier. You don't want to be another Garfield, do you?"

The cat seemed to take offense by the question, and wiggled out of her arms. He hit the floor gracefully and, tail in the air, sauntered out of the kitchen. "You're pathetic, Spike," she called after him, grabbing a bottled water from the refrigerator. She paused, the bottle partway to her mouth. "Now why does that sound familiar?"

Shrugging, she took a drink, then ambled down the hallway to her office, the lights automatically going on as she went. The house had cost a small fortune, but Buffy's home business was flourishing, especially since she patented a few of the figurines she sold based off of some of the creature's she'd fought. Her life was perfect. She had her health, her friends, her business and her cat; she saved the world every other week and countless innocents every night; and she wasn't bad in the looks department, either.

Flipping on the stereo, she let the music take her thoughts away from slaying and the upcoming attack on the new Master of Sunnydale, and she got down to work.

 

*****

 

Cos my heart is broken in pieces  
Yes my heart is broken in pieces  
Since you've been gone

"It would depend of if Santiago has the people alive or dead for food," Ethan continued, gesturing to the blueprint laid out on the table. "If they're dead, find the room with the biggest power outlet. That's where the icebox would be."

"Since when did you get so helpful?" Buffy asked, sharpening yet another stake into a fine point.

"Since the bastard took the woman I'd been working on from the hospital," the older man answered. "She was a ripe chit, too. And I had been all set to pluck..."

"Enough, Ethan," Giles said to his old friend. "We don't need to go into details."

"Just because you aren't getting any of the old slap-and-tickle, chap, don't spoil it for the rest of us," Ethan replied.

"Ok, so they're four possible rooms that the people are being held in," Willow said, interrupting the Watcher before he responded to Ethan. "The kitchen, the cellar, the room in the northwest corner and this huge room on the east side."

"I think that's a ballroom," Cordelia said, looking over the redhead's shoulder. "Xander, does it say anywhere in the database about Santiago holding parties?"

"Hold on, I'll check," Xander replied, quickly pulling up the correct file. "That's a big ‘yes ma'am' about the parties. Over the past six years, he's had a whole hell of a lot of vampire hoe- downs. Most of them were held in Cuba, starting around the millenium. Check this, the side notes indicate the Cuban's parties were attended by master vampires from all over the world."

"Why?" Buffy asked, setting the new stake down and picking up another piece of wood. "What does this vamp have that the others masters didn't?"

"A living statue," Xander answered.

"What?" Cordelia said, moving to sit next to her husband and read the computer screen.

"That's what the file says: ‘a living statue,'" Xander said.

"Search it, Xander," Willow instructed, marking a black-and-white copy of the blueprints to the Santiago lair with Giles' help.

"Searching...," he said. He glanced at his wife. "How come I no longer think it's weird there's a vampire database on the Internet."

"Probably for the same reason you think it's a slow night when we only stake twenty vampires," Cordelia answered.

"That could be why," Xander said, returning his eyes to the screen. "Here we go, one ‘living statue.'" The ex-Marine cleared his throat and began reading. "‘The living statue is said to be one of the most beautiful vampires in the world ever contained. The male, perfectly sculpted like white marble and perfectly silent like a statue, was once a vicious master vampire, sired by the ‘angelic one' himself. The living statue may be seen or used by permission only from Manuel Santiago.'"

"That it?" Buffy asked.

"That's all she wrote," he replied.

"‘Sired by the ‘angelic one' himself.' You don't think that means Angel?" Willow said.

"That is a succinct possibility," Giles replied. "I haven't read of any other vampires being described a-as ‘angelic.'"

"One of Angel's or not, he's still a vampire," Buffy said. "Which gives him a one-way ticket to Dustville."

"Alright, I think we have a plan of attack here," Willow said. The others, minus Ethan, gathered around the table as the redhead began the briefing. "We'll do a two team in, one team backup approach. Buffy, you'll come in the front doors..."

 

 

Part Two

 

"Team one, checking in," Buffy said quietly.

"Team two, checking in," Xander said, his voice coming over the radio earpiece.

"Team three, checking in," Willow finished the call in. "Team one, on my mark." The redhead looked at her watch. "Three, two, one, mark."

Buffy hit the button on her watch, then ran silently from her hiding place to the edge of the property. Dropping to the ground, she raised her high-power rifle with its night-vision scope to her eye, and took aim. "Target sighted."

"Team two, on my mark," Willow said. "Three, two, one, mark."

Less then a minute later, Xander's voice came over the radio. "Target sighted."

Giles' voice followed a few seconds later. "Target sighted."

"Fire on Team three's signal," Willow instructed.

Cordelia looked through the night-vision binoculars down at the security circling the yard. She waited until the fourth, uncovered vampire was in her sights, then said, "Fire."

Three silent shots whizzed through the night, the high-velocity wooden bullets piercing the hearts of the intended victims with perfect accuracy. The metal of their guns hit the ground with soft thuds, and the dust from where their bodies had been, sprinkled down on top of them.

"Team two G, target number for heading for your position," Cordelia said over the radio.

"Team two, copy," Giles responded. After a moment, he said, "Target sighted."

"Fire at will," Cordelia instructed. And the fourth guard was dust.

"Target eliminated," Giles said.

"Team one, approach the house. Team two, standby," Willow said.

"Copy," Buffy replied, rolling to her feet and shouldering her rifle. She hopped over the small hibiscus bush and ran, crouched low, towards the house. She darted silently up the front steps and positioned herself to the right of the door, repositioning the rifle in her hand. "Team one, in position."

"Team two, approach the house," Willow continued the plan. She glanced over at Cordelia, who was still looking through the binoculars. "Team three C, report?"

"Still clear," Cordelia replied.

"Team two, in position," Xander said over the radio.

"Prepare to enter on my mark, ten second delay on two, ready?" Willow said. "And mark."

Buffy moved in front of the door, and had it open with a violent kick. She took out the first two vampires inside the foyer before they had a chance to blink, then the third had half a yell out of his mouth before he was cut down, too. Her camouflage face-paint and fatigues stood out against the ornate, Spanish decor, as she swung her rifle at a charging fourth attacker.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw more vampires pouring in from other rooms into the foyer. "Alarm has been sounded," she said, ducking under a kick and firing another shot from her rifle, dusting one. Strap wrapped around her arm so she wouldn't loose the weapon, she pulled a stake from the sheath around her leg and plunged it up into the nearest opponent's heart.

More gunfire sounded from the direction of the kitchen, and she knew Xander and Giles had entered the house. The plan had been to get most of the minions within the house into the foyer, giving the two men time to enter and check the kitchen. Giles was then to proceed to the cellar, with Xander covering him, to search for the missing people.

Buffy dove and rolled into a side room, what looked to be a study, and fired off several rounds as the minions chased after her. She grabbed another stake and threw it, then another and another, all in rapid succession. Each landed on target, sending showers of dust into the air and onto the floor. She was in complete Slayer-mode, as were the other members of the Slaying team, for this particular mission. But that did not stop the comments she was silently making in her head with each shot or throw.

**Ooh, and another one bites the dust,** the Slayer thought, after dropping to one knee and picking the vampires off as they tried to get through the door. **I can't believe I just thought that. How cliche can I get?**

The clip was finally empty, and Buffy quickly shouldered the rifle. Getting to her feet, she dropped into a fighting stance, a stake in her hand from the holster. **Come and get it, boys,** she thought. **Or do I need to say it in Spanish? Um, come-o y lo get-o, amigos.**

With a snap kick, the vampire's head flew back, as the steel toe of her combat boot hit under his chin. She put her right foot down and used the forward movement to land a solid punch on him, before she spun and back-kicked another opponent. Her stake found its mark on the follow-up, and she didn't pause in attacking her next victim.

"Team three, coming in," Buffy heard Willow say over the radio. **Backup is coming in? Wonder why?** She staked another minion, moving fluidly and without thought. She grabbed another stake from her leg holster and threw it at the same time she sent a hard, side-kick at vampire.

"People coming your way, team three," Xander said.

"Got ‘em, team two," Cordelia replied. "Team three moving for interception and evacuation."

**Ah, not backup, pick up,** Buffy thought.

"Team two reporting, civilians clear," Xander said.

The Slayer continued to fight, and before she knew it, she was alone in the study, surrounded by piles of dust. "Team one, all clear," Buffy said, taking her rifle in hand again and inserting a new clip.

"Team three is clear, three C is transporting the civilians," Willow replied.

"Team two is clear," Xander said. "And moving out."

"Team one is going to make a sweep," Buffy said, peeking her head out the door. She darted across the empty hallway and checked the ballroom, then moved further into the house.

"Copy, team one," Willow replied.

Room by room, the blond Slayer searched for any other minions or humans, staking or shooting down the few vampires she ran across. She made it the entire way to the kitchen, then double- backed to go down a hallway that jutted from the main one. She didn't know if anyone had destroyed Santiago, and there was no way to identify the bodies, because there weren't any.

She got to the final door off the hallway, and she was surprised to find not only locked, but secured by an additional padlock. Not a single other door had been locked, not even the room filled with sophisticated computer equipment. "Team three, we have an anomaly, over," Buffy said quietly, shouldering her rifle to pull out her lock-pick kit from the breast pocket of her fatigues, part of the standard ‘gear.'

"Report, team one," Willow responded.

"Last door off the hallway, locked and padlocked," Buffy told her, as she worked the metal. "No signs as to what the room contains."

"Tread softly," the redhead warned.

"Roger that," the Slayer replied, hearing the distinctive sound of the lock turning under her pins. She dropped the metal to the floor, then went to work on the doorknob. It was manipulated easily under her expert fingers, and she smiled at her success. She put away her kit, the turned the knob slowly. "Moving in."

Opening the door, she went low, in case someone decided to try and blow her head off, and entered the room on a roll. Rifle in hand once again, she went up on one knee and searched the room with her eyes, ears, and other senses. There was one in the corner behind her and one sitting on the other side of the bed, bare back towards her.

"Por favor, senor, no matanza," the Cuban vampire in the corner said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Por favor."

Keeping her eye on the figure on the bed, Buffy leveled the rifle at the Cuban. "Team three, we have a language situation. Two bodies in the room."

"Copy, team one," Willow replied. "Tell him ‘repeta, por favor.'"

"Repeta, por favor," Buffy echoed.

"No muerta," he said, pointing to himself, then raising his hand again. "No muerta."

"‘No muerta,'" Buffy said to Willow.

"It means no killing," Willow said. "He doesn't want you to kill him."

"Instructions?" Buffy asked.

"Team two X will be at your position in T-minus three," the redhead answered.

"Copy, team three," she said.

Xander appeared, as told, his rifle leveled at the figure on the bed as he entered the room. "Team two in position."

"Team one, your call," Willow said.

"Team two, escort the Cuban," Buffy instructed. "I'll bring the other."

"Copy, team one," Xander replied, gesturing turning to the vampire in the corner and gesturing at him with the rifle. "Mova."

The Cuban kept his hands raised as he edged towards the door. Xander ushered him out of the room, leaving Buffy with the other occupant.

"Acquiring target," Buffy informed Willow. She rose and moved steadily towards the figure, who had yet to move or even acknowledge anyone was there. "Tu," she said in Spanish, slowly rounding the bed. "You, on the bed. Get up. Mova."

When the figure didn't respond, she got pissed. "I said get up! Ahora! Mova!" She got around the last corner of the bed, her mind taking in the fact that the person was naked, and she jabbed the rifle at the figure's side. Not even a flinch.

Frowning, she stopped moving and asked, "Language barrier again, team three."

"Team two?" Willow said.

"He says ‘no habla,'" Xander replied.

"No habla what?" Buffy asked.

"Just ‘no habla,'" Xander answered. "Your target doesn't speak, period."

"Copy, team two," the Slayer said. Shouldering her rifle, she pulled out a stake and moved until she was standing in front of who she could definitely tell was a male. She stared at the top of his long, white-blond hair, and had an eerie sense of deja vu. Reaching out with her left hand, she grabbed his chin and forced his head up. "Holy shit."

"Team one, report," Willow ordered.

"I found the living statue," Buffy said, staring at the familiar face, who's blue eyes reflected nothing. "It's Spike."

 

 

Part Three

 

It's all too easy  
To take so much for granted,  
But it's so hard  
To find the words to say.

"Repeat, team one," Willow said.

"Spike," Buffy said, horror in her voice from the lack of expression in his face and eyes. "Willow, it's Spike."

"Bring the target out, team one," the hacker instructed calmly, steel in her own voice.

"Roger, team three," Buffy responded, her training over the years kicking back in. Dropping the vampire's chin, her eyes searched the room for something to cover him with, as she sheathed the stake. Not finding anything, she shucked her fatigue jacket and thrust it at him. "Put this on."

Spike didn't respond, his head still in the position she'd raised it in, his eyes dead. Physically wincing by his lack of acknowledgment that there was anyone even in front of him, she put the jacket on him. "Let's go, Spike," Buffy said, pulling the jacket closed around him and quickly buttoning it. She took a step back and studied him. "Come on."

He didn't move, didn't blink, didn't do anything but sit there staring blankly at her. "Oh god, Spike, what happened to you?" she said, bending and pulling him up by the collar of her jacket. When he was almost standing, she swore. "Put your feet under you, Spike, and stand up."

Whatever she'd said must have worked, because the blond vampire was upright under his own power. Deciding not to test his mobility, she put his arm over her shoulder and settled a majority of his weight against her. "Team one, coming out," she said, leading him towards the door. "Need transport."

"Team three is at the front perimeter," Willow replied over the radio. "Team two has taken the Cuban target back to HQ."

"Roger," Buffy responded. The trip from the room to the jeep was made quickly, the Slayer mostly dragging Spike with her. Willow gasped when she saw him, covered in nothing but Buffy's fatigue jacket which barely passed his thighs, and she opened the specially-made, third door on the vehicle. Between the two of them, they got him half-sitting, half-laying in the back seat, then hopped into the jeep for an exceedingly-fast trip back into town.

The question hung in the air between the best friends, as Buffy continuously watched the perfectly still vampire -- what had happened to Spike?

 

*****

 

 

"He's Spike's attendant," Giles explained, his face still painted like everyone else's from the rescue mission. "From what I understand, Jefe feeds, bathes a-and cleans up any injuries. Santiago regarded Spike as-as a, er, plaything, something to entertain his guests."

The vampire in question was sitting in the corner of the room where Buffy and Willow had placed him. The only movement he made on his own was to turn and face the wall. The Cuban attendant, Jefe, was locked up in the basement of the bookstore, in a specially-made cage just for these occasions.

"Nothing else?" Buffy asked, her gaze constantly roving to the long-haired, peroxide-blond. "Like, who did this to Spike? Or how?"

"Nothing," Giles replied. "Jefe is only a-a-a servant, if you will. He was turned specifically for the job of taking care of Spike, nothing more. The only thing additional I was able to learn from him was that ‘la estatua vivo' was with Santiago when Jefe was turned, and the attendant has been with Spike for, uh, six years."

"Six years," the Slayer gasped. "He's been like this for six years?!"

"Yes."

One by one, the group gathered in the medium-sized headquarters turned their eyes to Spike. Not a single gaze was filled with hate or disgust, only sadness and pity. Memories filled their minds of the way the peroxide-blond used to be, and it was hard for each of them to believe the vampire sitting in the corner of the room was the same vampire of their past.

"We can't leave him like this," Willow said, always the voice of compassion and reason.

"I guess it would be a mercy killing," Giles said.

"Stake through the back," Xander said. "He probably wouldn't even notice."

"We should take that jacket off him first," Cordelia interjected. "Finding Buffy's size is not easy."

"Now that's a good idea," Xander replied. "‘Hey Spike, take off the jacket before we kill you, ok?'"

"No," Buffy stated, interrupting the beginnings of a fight between the married couple. She stood and slammed her palms on the table. "No, we are not going to kill him."

"But Buffy," Willow said. "Maybe it would be for the good, you know? Like putting your dog to sleep."

"Someone did this to him, Willow," Buffy growled. "And I want to know who and how and when and why and every other one of those reporter questions."

"Where and when," Ethan supplied, coming down the stairs with a dog in his arms. The familiar accompanied Willow to the store every day, his sixth sense ferreting out any undesirables who ventured into the shop. Why the dog liked Ethan was anyone's guess, but it more than likely had to do with the tidbits of food the man snuck to Angel while working on his paintings on the second floor of the bookstore.

"Shut up, Ethan," Buffy and Giles said simultaneously.

"There's no need to be rude," Ethan sniffed. Suddenly, the tiny dog squirmed out of his arms and ran across the room, his nails scrambling on the hard floor. "Willow, that dog is really quite...I don't think I'll finish that sentence."

"Good," Willow said, glaring at the man. Her head turned when she heard Angel start whining. To her surprise, and everyone else's, the familiar was pawing at Spike's bare leg, trying to get his attention. "Angel, no. Don't do that, you'll hurt him."

Angel stopped and looked back at the group, his large, doe-eyes conveying unhappiness. He then turned and licked Spike's leg, then laid down on the floor on one of the vampire's feet, watching the group watch him.

"What's he saying, Wills?" Xander asked. "I haven't brushed up on my Dog-ese."

"Angel likes him," Willow replied. "Although he's never liked vampires before, except for Angel." She grinned. "Angel likes Angel."

"Spike must be really gone if the dog isn't even afraid of him," Cordelia said.

"I'm going to get him back," Buffy said.

"Buffy, do you think that is-is wise?" Giles asked. "The Spike we knew wouldn't think twice about killing us."

"Giles is right, Buff," Xander said.

"Xander is right, Buffy," Cordelia added.

"I'd have to agree with Ripper on this one," Ethan chimed in. "Even though I've never met the bloke."

"Willow, do you have anything to add?" Buffy asked in a steely voice.

"Um, well, this is Spike we're talking about," Willow replied. "The vampire, not your cat."

Buffy glared at each one of the others in turn. "I am going to get Spike back. No one deserves to be like he is," she growled. "If you don't like it, tough shit. Deal."

Silence filled the room for several moments. Each person had their doubts about Buffy wanted to do, but the question of how a vampire, as energetic and passionate as Spike had been, could become the still figure in the corner was something they were all curious to know.

"Do be careful, Buffy." Giles was the first to condone to Buffy's wishes. "Especially since we don't know the cause of Spike's, er, con-condition."

"Where are you going to keep him?" Willow asked.

"And what are you going to dress him in?" Cordelia inquired.

"And feed him?" Xander said.

"Is he housebroken?" Ethan couldn't help but add.

"Ethan," Buffy warned.

"I know, I'm quiet," Ethan said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So, what's your plan, Buffy?" Xander asked.

"Um, Spanish speaking person," Buffy said, her mind whirling. "Find out from Heifer-"

"Jefe," Giles corrected.

"Yeah, Jefe," Buffy continued. "His daily routine. When does Spike get up? When does he eat? What does he do all day? That sort of thing."

"Very well," Giles replied.

"Call me when you get the information," Buffy told him, then turned to Ethan. "Ethan, do you have any black paint in your supplies upstairs?"

"Yes," Ethan said. "And I'll be happy to sell..." She gave him a murderous look. "Give it to you."

"Thanks, I'll need a brush, too," Buffy said. "Cordy, do you think you could pick up some clothes that would fit Spike tomorrow?"

"Sure," Cordelia replied, eyeing the vampire with a tailor's mind. "Anything in particular?"

"Comfy-clothes," the Slayer answered. "I don't think I'll be taking him out anywhere."

"Anything you want me to do?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, can you give us a ride back to my house?" Buffy replied. Xander nodded. "Wills, you might want to call Angel about this one."

"I'll do it as soon as I get home," Willow said.

"Ok, then," Buffy said. "I guess that's it. Unless you guys can think of anything else?"

"Sleep with a stake under your pillow," Xander replied.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Thank you for that bit of insightfulness, Xand-man. Now, come on. I have a layer of face paint still on my skin that I want to get off before I'm permanently green and black."

 

*****

 

After a small amount of trial and error, Buffy found that Spike understood the words ‘stand' and ‘follow,' and she managed to get him to Xander's car with little difficulty. Twenty minutes later, she led the vampire into the only other room set up as a bedroom in the house. "Here we are," she said, gesturing with the can of black paint. "Your new home."

Spike had stopped walking when she had stopped, and he stood slightly behind her, as still as the living statue he was nicknamed. She looked back at him and saw him staring blankly ahead, his eyes completely without life. Normally, she'd think the way he was wearing nothing but a too- small camouflage jacket was funny, but in this situation, it saddened and angered her all at once.

With a sigh, she reached back and took his larger, cool hand in her smaller, warm one and pulled him to the bed. "Um, sit?" Buffy tried the command, having run a small gambit of similar words back at the bookstore. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she smiled slightly in relief. Now she knew how to make him sit, stand and walk. **Great, he's just like a dog,** she thought, her smile turning into a scowl.

"I'm gonna go wash my face, then paint over the windows, ok?" she said to him. She stared at him a moment, wishing that he would answer. When he didn't, she sighed again and set the paint can and paintbrush down, then left the bedroom.

 

*****

 

"Hello?" Buffy said into the phone when it rang half-an-hour later.

"Buffy? It's Giles," Giles said on the other end of the line.

"Hey Giles," she replied in a tired voice. "I take it you got the low-down from Josser"

"Jefe, yes," Giles said. "The routine isn't much. Jefe f-fed Spike around sunset, then bathed him, then fed himself. He would stay out of the way until Santiago or whomever, er, finished with Spike, then clean any wounds and his duties were done until the following night."

"Sounds pretty simple," Buffy said. "What are we going to do with the Cuban?"

"Willow and I decided to put a tracker on him and release him," the Watcher replied. "Hopefully, if Santiago is still alive, Jefe will search for him."

"And we'll nail him," she said. "I'm liking that plan. Anything else?"

"No, that is everything," Giles answered.

"Ok, I'll see you tomorrow night before patrol," Buffy said. "Bye."

"Good night," Giles replied, then disconnected.

The Slayer hung up the phone, then returned to the bedroom where Spike was still sitting on the edge of the bed. "That was Giles," she told him, having decided in the shower that she should talk to him as much as possible. "He told me your routine. You won't be getting any more...what did you call them? Happy meals on legs? But the butcher shop has a pretty nice selection nowadays. Pig, cow, sheep, and a few other animals I'd rather not know about."

Opening the black paint, she stirred it slightly with the brush, then picked it up and began painting over the windows. "I'm painting these black for you. Good thing my neighbors can't see into the back yard, or they'd really wonder what was going on in here. As it is, they think I'm weird enough," she said. "I guess that's a true statement. I go in and out of the house at all hours of the night, I get big shipments from my suppliers -- which all come in crates or large, brown boxes - and I live alone in this great big house with no obvious means of supporting myself. Who knows, maybe they think I'm a drug dealer or something."

She stirred the paint a little more as she continued, "I'm not, though. A drug dealer. I have a mail-order business. Tacky, I know, but you wouldn't believe how good it is. I sell ‘fantasy' stuff -- dragons and unicorns, things like that. I even created a few of my own figurines." She chuckled. "Most of them are vampires. I did Lyle Gorch and Mr. Trick. The Master. Darla. A few others you may or may not have heard of." She looked over at him. "I even did you and Drusilla."

Spike didn't react, as she was starting to come to expect, and she went on with her one-sided conversation. "I wanted to do Angel, but he got all pissy. Said it was like pornography, only with clothes on," she said, and rolled her eyes. "I got a couple of prototypes of him in my originals case. Too bad Mr. Prude won't let me finish them."

Finished with the painting, Buffy recapped the can, then set it to the side. "That should do it. If we pull down the shades, too, there'll be no worries of you going ‘poof,'" she said, looking at him again. A sad frown formed over her features, and she walked over to stand in front of him, tilting his chin to see into his lifeless eyes. "What happened, Spike, huh? Why are you like this?"

She heard a loud noise coming from the other room and she issued a terse, "Stay here," before going to investigate. She realized how dumb it was to tell a vampire known as ‘la estatua vivo' to stay put, as she quietly crept down the hallway. Rounding the corner to the entryway, she heard the sound again and paused. It was coming from the hidden closet.

She stealthily got into position and yanked the door open, prepared to strike. Instead, she burst out laughing when she saw her cat peering up at her from inside one of her slaying bags. "Are you playing in here again?" she fake scolded him. Bending down, she dug him out of the bag and cuddled him to her, then closed the door. "I don't know how you manage to sneak in there. Is there a secret door to my secret closet?"

The cat launched himself out of her arms and took off down the hallway. "Spike, where are you...Spike!" As she ran after her cat, she couldn't help but laugh at the name confusion. Now she knew how Willow felt when Angel was in town for a visit. She entered the bedroom and came to a halt at the sight before her.

Spike, the cat was standing on Spike, the vampire's lap, his paws on either shoulder, rubbing his nose against the peroxide-blond's face. She had somewhat expected her cat to take a dislike to Spike -- the feline tended to avoid anyone but her - but the loud purring emanating from the animal said distinctly otherwise.

The only thing ruining what could have been a Kodak moment was the lack of response from the vampire.

 

 

Part Four

 

After depositing her cat in her bedroom, Buffy returned to Spike. "Sorry about that," she said, sadly noting that the vampire hadn't moved even an inch. "My cat is...my cat. He's never done that before. Spike's not too fond of other people. That's his name, by the way. Spike. Got him from Angel as a joke," she said, drawing the shades. "He does remind me of you...well, not now, but before... Anyway, he's a good cat."

She glanced at the clock on the night stand and groaned. "Ten til four already. Looks like I won't be getting up bright and early to get my orders processed," she complained. She looked at Spike, then at the made bed, before returning to the vampire. "I guess I'd better get you to sleep. The bed's all made up. The last person to use it was my mom, when she came up for an overnight visit. Not that the sheets are dirty. I put clean ones on after she left."

Rolling her eyes at her own babble, she turned down the covers as far as she could with Spike sitting there. Then she eyed the jacket he was wearing with a frown. "I need that jacket back, Spike, so I can wash it for the next time. It's not like you're unused to going without clothes," she said, moving to unbutton the fatigue. "Cordy will be stopping by sometime tomorrow with some things for you to wear. Knowing her, when I said ‘comfy-clothes' she'll think ‘Armani.'"

The jacket was off and he was naked before her once more. Forcing herself not to be embarrassed, she gestured to the bed. "Ok, you can get under the covers," she said. When he did nothing, she started on a list of words. "Uh, go to bed? Lay down?"

Buffy was startled when he laid straight back on the bed in conjunction with her second words. "If I tell you to roll over, will you?" she asked, then paled when he did exactly that. "Oh god, Spike, no. Sit up. You're not a dog."

Spike sat up, returning to his original position on the edge of the bed. The Slayer felt her eyes fill with tears and she had to bite her lip to keep them back. "How about go to sleep?" she said after a moment. When he moved at her words, she had to push down the urge to take him in her arms and hold him. He climbed into the bed and pulled the covers up over himself, then stared blankly up at the ceiling.

"Well, um, goodnight," Buffy said in a slightly choked voice. "I'll see you tomorrow...I mean, later today." With a final, sad look at him, she turned and quickly walked out of the room, shutting off the overhead light on the way.

 

*****

 

Buffy spent a fitful few hours trying to sleep, but finally gave up around eight. Her cat bounded out of her bedroom directly for Spike's as soon as she opened the door. Following groggily, she entered the vampire's room and saw that his eyes were closed. Spike, the cat had made himself at home already on the peroxide-blond's covered stomach.

Walking over to the side of the bed, she carefully sat down. **How can I fix this, Spike?** she thought, studying the sleeping vampire. **You don't deserve to be like this, even though you are a vampire.** She refrained from reaching out to touch his face, not wanting to wake him. After a few minutes, she sighed and stood, then left the bedroom.

"Java, java, java, java, java," Buffy mumbled to herself as she made her way to the kitchen. She turned on the coffee maker, then picked up the phone and hit a speed-dial number.

"Thank you for calling Bookends, Willow speaking," Willow greeted cheerfully on the other end of the line.

"You're too happy for this early in the morning," Buffy said to her, taking a grapefruit out of the refrigerator.

"Just call me Chipper-Charlie," the redhead replied.

"How about I just call you nuts?" Buffy said.

"You can do that, too," Willow answered. "How's Spike?"

"Sleeping," Buffy replied, cutting the grapefruit in half, then cutting the meaty center into pieces. "At least, I think he's sleeping. His eyes are closed. Hey, you want to know something weird?"

"Hellmouth-weird or weird-weird?" Willow asked.

"Weird-weird," she said. "Spike is sleeping on top of Spike's stomach."

"You're right, that is weird," the hacker replied. "How did you get Spike's stomach out of him?"

"Willow," Buffy groaned. "That was pathetic."

"I know," Willow said. She paused a moment. "I called Angel."

"And?" Buffy said, feeling the familiar slight pang in her heart at the mention of the dark-haired vampire. Willow was the only one of the group that spoke to Angel on a regular basis, keeping him abreast of the events in Sunnydale. Buffy and Angel may be quasi-friends, but even talking to each other on the phone was hard on both of them.

"He thinks you're the one who's nuts, not me," the redhead answered. "But he'll come up as soon as he can to check out Spike."

"Joy," the Slayer said with little enthusiasm. She took the sugar out of the cabinet and began to sprinkle it over the grapefruit. "So, is there anything new or exciting I should know about that happened between earlier this morning and now?"

"I got a letter from Oz."

Buffy stopped mid-bite on the first piece of the fruit. "What's it say?"

"Only that he'll be home next week after his debriefing," Willow said casually. Then she squealed in delight. "Oz is coming home!"

"About time," Buffy said, a large smile on her face, her heart lifting for her best friend. "He's been on this last assignment for how long now?"

"Thirty-nine days, twelve hours and fourteen minutes," Willow replied promptly.

Buffy laughed. "Sounds like you miss him."

"Oh yeah," she said. "I can't wait to see him. And hug him. And kiss him. And do other things to him that I can't say when I'm at work."

Oz Rosenberg, the only male the group had ever heard of who took the last name of the wife, was a counterintelligence officer with the CIA. Recruited specifically because of his musical skills, his constant cover was as a bass player for whatever band the intelligence community sent overseas to perform.

Gone for most of the year, Willow and Oz rarely got to see each other, but neither minded. Willow was constantly busy with her studies to become a Watcher, helping with slaying, and with the bookstore. Oz, at the same time, got to do what he loved -- play the guitar - while doing something he thought was worthwhile. It was an unconventional marriage, but what else could be expected between a witch and a werewolf.

"Congratulations, Will," Buffy said. "Don't forget to warn Giles, so he doesn't think something happened to you when you don't show up for work."

"He already knows," Willow replied. "It was kinda hard to hide my giddiness when I came in. Ethan even smiled once at me before he went back to complaining about the black paint."

"Ethan's up already?" Buffy asked, resuming her breakfast. "It's only eight."

"He said he had a breakfast date," she said. "Although he used some cruder words a lady doesn't repeat."

"You're not a lady," the Slayer teased.

"Look who's talking," Willow said. "Oops, customer. Gotta go. Bye."

"Bye, Wills," Buffy said, then hung up the phone. She finished her breakfast in a happy silence, glad for her best friend. When she finished, she tossed the grapefruit rinds, put her knife and spoon in the dishwasher, then went to throw some clothes on and get to work.

Several hours later, the Slayer was satisfied with her progress on the orders and had remembered to call her gardening service about the flowers. She was on her way to get more coffee when the doorbell rang. Knowing it had to be one of her friends, because only the small group had the access code for the front gate, she set down her mug on the hallway table and answered it. "Hey Cordy," she greeted.

"Hi Buffy," Cordelia replied, several shopping bags in hand. "I have a few more in the trunk."

"What, did you buy out the entire store?" Buffy asked as the brunette set her parcels down, then followed her outside.

"No, but I wasn't sure how long Spike would be with you," Cordelia said. "Besides, I like to shop."

"Understatement, Cord," Buffy replied, taking a few more bags from the trunk, which she had to juggle in order to reopen the gate. "We'll leave these in the hallway. I'll put them away later, after Spike wakes up."

"Has he said anything yet?" she asked.

"Not a peep," Buffy answered, taking her mug and leading the brunette Mrs. Chase-Harris into the kitchen. "Get this, Spike likes him."

"Who?" Cordelia said, puzzled.

"The cat," she replied.

"That beast likes a vampire, why am I not surprised?" Cordelia said, accepting the cup of coffee Buffy proffered.

"Spike is not a beast," Buffy said.

"Which one are we talking about?" the brunette asked with an arch of her perfect brow.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'll rename the cat," she said, taking a sip of her coffee. "Oh hey, Oz is coming home next week sometime."

"Bet Willow is annoyingly excited," Cordelia said.

"She made Ethan smile."

Cordelia shuddered. "That's spooky. Before I forget, Xander won't be at the debriefing of last nights mission tonight. He has a staff meeting."

"Xander in a staff meeting as a respectable member of the faculty at Sunnydale High," Buffy said. "I think that's the strangest thing the Hellmouth could ever come up with."

"Xander was always unique," Cordelia shrugged. "He joins the marines to become a librarian. His favorite food is Cheesy Chips."

"He married you," the Slayer added with a grin.

 

*****

 

"I got some dinner for you," Buffy said later that night, as she held out a container of pig's blood from the butcher. She had returned from running errands to find Spike awake and sitting on the edge of the bed, his head down, his long, untethered hair covering his face. "Here."

She tried to give him the Styrofoam container, but he didn't move to take it. Taking off the lid, she tried a second time by holding it under his face. "Spike, time to eat," she conned. Brushing his hair back over his shoulders, she could see that his ridges had formed because of the smell of the blood, but he made no move to take the container from her.

Buffy withdrew the container, then tilted his head up with her other hand. She put the edge of the container to his lips and slowly raised it until the blood started dripping down the sides of his mouth. "Come on, Spike, feed," she urged. Whether the word was conditioned into him, or the blood on his lips enticed his bloodlust, he opened his mouth and began to drink as she lifted the container higher.

"Now I know why you get a bath next," she said, wrinkling her nose at the red liquid that had run down his chin and along his throat. She was glad she hadn't bothered to try and dress him before he ate. When the container was empty, she capped it and set it on the night stand, catching sight of the clock. "We're going to have to hurry. I need to go on patrol in an hour and I still need to eat, too."

She told him to stand and follow, to which he complied, and she led him to the master bathroom. "So, did you take a bath or a shower?" Buffy asked, as she turned on the tap water in the large, jacuzzi tub. "I'd say bath, because I doubt good old Jeff would want to get in the shower with you."

As the tub filled, she rooted around in the walk-in linen closet for a towel, spare toothbrush and an unused, large tooth comb. "After you're clean, we can deck you out in the things Cordelia bought for you. Well, what she bought using the Slayerette petty cash fund. Did you know we've gone all government-like? I guess with a spook, an ex-Marine and Willow on the team, we were bound to go pro. I don't think you've ever met Oz -- he's the spook. CIA. He'll be home next week, so I'll have to introduce you to him."

Buffy set the things in her hands down, then returned to the closet to get a washcloth. "Anyway, tonight after patrol I'm heading over to HQ for the mission debriefing. Sounds pretty fancy, huh? Too bad it's nothing but a lot of work. Ever since Willow got married to a G-man, we've made records of our records. She's really gung-ho about making sure our work is written down in great detail for future use," she said, laying the washcloth on the edge of the tub.

"If you would've come to Sunnydale with Drusilla now instead of years ago, you would've been dusted really quickly," Buffy told him. "We tend to take out powerful master vampires in one big mission, instead of dealing with them one-on-one. And yes, that was a compliment to you, but try not to get a swelled head."

She double-checked the water temperature, shut off the tap, then took his arm and led him to the edge of the raised tub. "Hmm, how do I get you in here?" she asked herself, trying to think of the logical word. She briefly wondered why all the commands so far had been in English, rather than Spanish. "Get in the bath?" He stepped over the edge and sat in the water, the ends of his hair floating on the surface. "I'm getting better at guessing these things."

She dunked the washcloth in the water, then reached over and grabbed the soap, lathering the rag up. "I'm confused...big surprise there," she continued. "Why is it that you respond to certain words, but not others? What's that experiment with the bell and drooling -- Potsie's dog? Did something happen to erase the annoying vampire we all know and hate, and you got trained? Blech. I don't like the sound of that."

Gently, Buffy began washing the dried blood off of Spike's face. She avoided looking into his dull eyes, instead concentrating on her one-sided conversation. "Maybe Angel can shed some light on it when he comes up. Willow called him last night. We don't...we're not...Angel and I...blah, blah, blah. You probably know what I mean. You always had a knack for seeing what other people couldn't see."

She lifted up each arm, moving down both limbs with the soapy rag. "And you were right about that friends speech you gave that one time in that shop. I still remember that clearly, ‘cuz what you said really sucked, but it was true. Angel and I aren't friends, not really. More like strained divorcees. It blows," she said.

"Enough talk about my ex-honey. Too depressing. Plus, it's kinda odd to be talking about one man when I'm giving a bath to another one," Buffy commented. She wrapped the soap in the washcloth, then continued bathing him beneath the surface of the water. "And don't you go getting any ideas. This is a bath, nothing more. Even if I do think you have a great body, understand?"

Buffy was silent for several moments, involved in washing him. She eventually set soap aside and rinsed out the rag, then grabbed a plastic pitcher which she used to wash her own hair in the tub. With one hand, she pulled slightly on his shoulder until he was sitting upright, then tilted his head back, while she dunked the pitcher into the water with her other hand. "You know, I've never had my hair washed by anyone before," she said, carefully pouring the water over his long, peroxide locks. "Not in a haircut place, I mean. I've heard it feels really good."

She set the pitcher down and gently straightened his head. Taking the shampoo, she squirted a large amount in her hand, then added a splash of water before starting on his hair. "I like your hair, by the way. Hefty must have had a challenge keeping it bleached. I can't believe that you've let it grow so long, it's almost down to your waist. You've got that whole hippie-biker thing going," she said.

Buffy picked up the pitcher, tilted his head back again, and began rinsing out the soap. "I'll try not to get the soap in your eyes," she told him. "Although I don't think you'd notice. Your eyes look so dead, almost as if there was nothing inside you. Just like a living statue."

Sighing, she finished rinsing his hair, then hit the drain as she told him to stand. Grabbing the towel, she managed to prompt Spike out of the tub by telling him to follow, then walking away from him until he stepped out. She quickly dried him off, noting that he did have a terrific body, all smooth, lean planes and muscles.

After squeezing the excess water out of his hair, she draped the wet towel over a bar, then got him to sit on the toilet seat. No amount of words she could come up with managed to get him to brush his teeth, so she had to do it for him. It was an experience that was both yucky and sad. "Follow, Spike," she said after she was done. She led him back to his bedroom and told him to sit, then climbed behind him and began to brush his hair.

"Your hair is very soft," Buffy murmured, running the comb through it over and over again. "I'm surprised. I thought with all the bleaching, it'd be brittle. Maybe it's a vamp thing." She started to giggle. "Can you imagine? ‘Why do you want to become a vampire?' ‘Because they have great hair.'"

Forgetting all about the time, she continued combing his hair until it was dry. She hoped it was as relaxing for him as it had been for her. Once done, she moved off the bed, setting the comb down on the slowly-getting-crowded night stand, and opened the drawer. Earlier she had unpacked the clothes from Cordelia while he was still asleep, and had found that the ex-cheerleader had purchased several ties for men's hair.

Buffy took out a simple black one, then pulled his hair back with the tie at the nape of Spike's neck. Her cat, who had been hanging around the bedroom, decided to try and fit into the small drawer, while the Slayer moved to the dresser to pull out some clothes.

"I can't believe Cordy got you colored briefs," she commented, taking out a pair of navy blue ones. "At least she didn't get you any thongs, thank god for that." She slid them over his feet, then had him stand so she could pull them up. "Xander read off the vampire database that you liked to run around naked. Well, in my house, clothing is a rule. Too distracting otherwise."

She dressed him in a pair of lightweight khaki's, then struggled to get a t-shirt onto the vampire. His not moving wasn't any help to her. Finally, she re-fixed his hair and stepped back to look at him. "Much clothier. She got socks, but no shoes because she couldn't tell your size, which is really weird for Cordelia Chase-Harris. Maybe it was because she was too busy with eyeing the rest of your body. I know that both me and Wills always wondered what was hidden under that duster."

Buffy glanced at the clock and shook her head when she saw the time, but continued speaking. "What happened to that coat, anyway? It looked like you had it for a long time and never took it off. Maybe it's back at Santiago's place. I'll find out if we can do a tear-down, see if I can find it for you."

She took her cat out of the night stand drawer, then shut it. "I gotta get going. Patrol," she said. "Um, do you want to watch tv or listen to the radio? Probably not. I guess I'll just leave you here to your own devices with Spike." She set the feline on the bed, and he immediately climbed into the sitting vampire's lap and began to kneed his leg. "Don't have too much fun."

Impulsively, she reached out and brushed Spike's cheek with her fingertips. Then she pressed her lips together in a frown and left the bedroom.

 

*****

Part Five

 

Buffy didn't find a single vampire out on patrol, but that was a normal occurrence after a big mission. The vampires tended to lay low for a few days until the smoke blew over before returning to their usual activities of murder and mayhem. It would only be a matter of time before a new master came to try and take over Sunnydale, drawn by the power of the Hellmouth, and the pattern would repeat itself.

Other demons and supernatural creatures were also a mainstay on the Boca Del Infierno. However, the were quickly dispatched by the tight-knit group of friends, each doing their own ‘job.' Giles was the primary researcher, with Xander backing him up with the book-work. Willow used the more modern technology of the Internet to help gather and record information, and she usually developed the plans for group missions. Cordelia kept them dressed and armed with the specialized weaponry and fatigues, even going as far as attending gun shows and antique auctions to restock their supplies.

The Slayer was still just that -- the Chosen One who fought the forces of darkness. She went on patrol twice a night, slaying what vampires she found, and meeting with her Watcher in between the rounds to check in. At times, when there were no big prophecies to defeat or uprisings to put down, Buffy, Willow, Xander and Cordelia would go to the ‘adult' Bronze-like club they had found just outside of Sunnydale. When Oz was in town, sometimes he would join them, but most times Willow would disappear for several days until the werewolf went on assignment again.

"Hey guys," Buffy greeted, as she came down the basement stairs of the bookstore where HQ, or headquarters, was located. Cordelia was sitting behind a laptop, typing in her mission report. Willow was behind the main PC, entering information into the vampire database. Giles was, as usual, leafing through a book, cup of tea in hand. She bent down to pet Angel, who's tail was wagging so fast, his entire back-half was wiggling. "Anything happening?"

"Just debriefing," Willow replied without looking up from the screen.

"How was patrol?" Giles asked.

"Dead," Buffy said, picking up the local paper to see if there was any mention of the previous night's activities. She found a small article on page seven about the reuniting of the missing people with their families, kidnaped by a "crazed PCP gang." She smiled when she read that. Sunnydale never changed.

"A-And Spike?" Giles said.

"He's dead, too," she replied. "He's almost lifeless. He can't eat, or bathe, or even dress himself. The only responses I get from him is when I give a command he recognizes, just like a dog -- no offense Angel."

The dog yipped upon hearing his name, spinning in a circle in hopes of getting a treat. Buffy rolled her eyes at the animal's antics. "Wills, I think your familiar has a screw loose."

"Ethan's fault," Willow said. "He's been corrupting my dog."

"Now that I'd believe," Giles commented, returning to his book.

"Alright, Slayer," Willow said, getting the debriefing underway. "Report."

Buffy took a seat and began. The Watcher-in-training took both a written report and an oral one for the records. "Six or seven in the entryway, upwards of fourteen in the study. No structural damage except for the front door when I kicked it in. Used up my clip, left several stakes. By the way, Cordy, I like the fifteen-round clip better than the twelve-round."

"As do I," Giles added.

"That's what Xander said, too," Cordelia said. "I'll stick to getting those then."

"Saw a room filled with computer equipment," Buffy continued. "But I think Spike was Santiago's prized possession. He was the only thing under lock and key."

"Then if Santiago is still alive, he may want Spike back," Willow said.

"Jensen not tracking?" Buffy asked.

"Jefe," Giles said. "Is tracking very well, Buffy. He has not attempted to locate Santiago as of yet."

"Anything else?" Willow inquired.

"Nope," the Slayer replied. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

"Not you, too," Cordelia said. "Country music is so passe. Old country is even worse."

"It's not that old, Cordy," Buffy said. "Besides, it's not like I listen to country all the time. I just like Collin Raye."

"At least it's better than that-that music you used to listen to during training," Giles pointed out. "And I use the term ‘music' loosely."

"Ha, ha, Watcher-man," she said, making a face at him. She looked back at Willow. "Mind if I do the tear-down?"

"You?" Willow asked, amazed.

"Yeah, me," Buffy scowled. "It's not like I haven't done them before."

"Only when you have been dragged kicking and screaming," Giles muttered.

"I heard that," Buffy said.

"Any reason? It can't be because you've decided you love doing the work...," Willow said.

"There may be some info about Spike," the Slayer answered truthfully. "And since I've become-"

"A statue-sitter?" Cordelia supplied.

Buffy glared at her. "Interested in what happened to him, I want to do a search first-hand."

"Do you want anyone to go with you?" Willow asked, giving her approval as mission leader.

"Nah," she replied. "I'll bring the cell in case I need help."

"Just don't forget the notebook," the redhead instructed.

"Wills, I do more reports for you than I ever did in school," Buffy said, moving in front of the laptop Cordelia had finished with.

"And you'd only get B's and C's for grades from me," Willow murmured.

"What was that?" Buffy asked.

"Nothing, Buff," she replied, giving her best friend an innocent smile.

"Now why don't I believe you?"

 

*****

 

"Willow and her stupid forms," Buffy grumbled, turning to a new page in the notebook. She'd been at Santiago's lair for several hours now, cataloging everything in the place. "This is why I hate doing tear-downs." At least she had found Spike's duster and what she assumed were his shoes, they were the only two things in the closet of the room in which he was kept. But she had found nothing more on ‘la estatua vivo' to point her in the direction as to why he was how he was.

The computer beeped, and the Slayer looked up and saw that the disk was full. She popped in another blank cd and hit the mouse so the downloading of the hard drive would continue. Willow would sift through the information contained on the vampire's PC and determine the content's worth. The entire gang had taken a crash course in computers and, under the hackers tutorial, each of them became pretty adept at using them. Even Giles, as much as he loathed to touch the "dread machines."

In the bag on the floor next to her were all the things she deemed important enough to pick up, including spent casings and abandoned stakes. She'd found some of the kidnaped victims' wallets and purses, which she added to the bag to return, and several books that had possible occult value. No sign of any stray vampires or the master, Santiago.

"Buff? You here?" she heard Xander call out.

"Down the hall, third door on the left," Buffy called back. In a moment, the dark-haired man joined her. "What're you doing here?"

"I figured since I lucked out on missing the debriefing, the least I could do was give you a ride home," Xander said, taking a seat next to her. Buffy still didn't possess a driver's license, even after all these years. She had gotten so used to walking, she'd eventually just stopped wanting to drive. "How's the tear-down coming?"

"Almost done," the Slayer replied. "I saved this room for last in order to wait for the computer to download."

"Find anything out about your houseguest?"

"Nothing," Buffy shook her head. "Maybe Willow will have some luck with these cds."

"Just be careful, Buffy," Xander said. "Even though Angel and your hellbeast like him, Spike's still a vampire. One without a soul."

"And here I thought soulful vampires were a common thing," she replied sarcastically. "And Spike's not a hellbeast."

"Which one?" he teased.

"You know, your wife said the same joke earlier," Buffy said.

"What can I say?" Xander shrugged. "Great minds think alike."

"Or you two share a brain," she replied with a grin.

 

*****

 

Cos my heart is broken in pieces  
Yes my heart is broken in pieces  
Since you've been gone

Spike was sitting exactly how she'd left him almost six hours before. The cat had disappeared, probably hiding in her secret weapons closet again, and the vampire was the perfect statue as his new name implied. Buffy sighed sadly, but forced a cheery note in her voice as she took the duster out of the bag.

"Look what I found," she said, holding it up in front of him. "Bet you've been missing this." He gave no reaction. "It's a good thing I found it, too. It's starting to get cold outside. Not that you'd notice. Must be nice not to feel cold or hot."

She walked over to the closet. "I'm going to hang this in here," she said, opening the door. She frowned when she saw all the clothes. "If I can. Jeez, Cordy got you a lot of stuff. I wonder if there's a twelve-step program for shopaholics like her."

Buffy looked at her watch, grimacing at the time. She'd done a second patrol with Xander before he dropped her off at home. "Three o'clock. You know, this is why I'm self-employed. Can you imagine me actually having to get up in a few hours to go to a ‘real' job? I know I did it in high school, but I was young then," she said, then chuckled. "Listen to me, I sound like I'm eighty when I'm only twenty-six."

She went back over to him and pulled the t-shirt over his head. "I think we're going to have to get you a new schedule. This sitting around here by yourself has gotta suck. How about I wake you up when I get up, and you can watch me work? I can guarantee you, it's just as boring as what you did all night. Stand."

Spike stood and the Slayer undid the fastenings on his khakis and let them drop to the floor. "Sit," she instructed. He sat back down and she pulled them over his feet. "Ok, Spike, time to sleep." She waited while he automatically climbed under the covers and was staring blankly up at the ceiling, the same as the night before, then she sat on the edge of the bed, continuing talking to him.

"I didn't find out anything about who did this to you during the tear-down," Buffy said, reaching out to lay her hand on his exposed arm. "Maybe Willow will find something out from what I downloaded off Santiago's computer. I just know that if I can answer at least one question in regards to you, I can bring you back from wherever you are. Then you can go out and kick whoever's ass."

She sat silently for a few minutes, just watching him lay there. She squeezed his arm. "Goodnight, Spike," she said, rising. She shut off the light on her way out the door.

 

 

Part Six

 

"Hi Angel," Buffy said upon opening her front door. Three weeks had passed since she'd taken Spike in, and she had yet to have any sort of response from him. "Come on it."

"Thanks," Angel replied, entering her house. The Slayer closed the door behind him. "How are you?"

"Fine," she answered, picking up her cat, who had come to investigate, and petting him behind the ears. "You?"

"Fine," he said.

"Good," Buffy replied. After a moment of silence, she shook her head. "This is so pathetic. Come on, Spike's in the kitchen keeping me company."

Buffy had done as she had said, altering Spike's schedule so that he got up when she did. She dressed him, then made sure the curtains were closed in her office before she brought him into the room to sit with her while she worked. Once the sun set, she'd have him sit in the kitchen with her while she cooked and ate dinner, then fed and bathed him, before she went out on her first patrol. Then she'd return home and watch tv with him before putting him to bed and going out on her second patrol.

"Is he still as Willow described?" Angel asked, following her into the kitchen.

"Yeah, no change," Buffy answered. She dropped Spike to the ground, and he scampered off after a toy mouse she kicked with her bare foot. When they entered the brightly lit room, she went around the table, set with her dinner, to the blond vampire and tilted his chin up. "Spike, look who came to see you."

She looked over at Angel to see him frozen in the doorway, staring at his childe with a stunned expression on his face. "Freaky, huh? Cordelia's fashion sense hasn't changed," she joked, referring to the clothing she'd dressed Spike in that morning.

The joke brought Angel out of his stupor, and he walked around the table to get a closer look at the other vampire. "Buffy, I've never seen anyone like this before, unless they were in a hospital," he said.

"I know," Buffy replied, brushing Spike's long hair back. She'd left it loose after combing it earlier that morning, although she would tie it before she fed him. "Did Willow tell you he's been like this for at least six years?"

"No, she didn't," he answered.

Buffy looked up at her ex-boyfriend and saw that his eyes reflected sadness and pain. She forced herself not to reach out to comfort him, instead she retook her seat and picked up her fork. "Why don't you sit down so I can finish eating, and I'll tell you what I do know about Spike."

Angel nodded and pulled out a third chair at the square kitchen table, sitting down as asked. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner. Malicious faerie infestation in a theater," he explained.

"It's ok," she waved his apology away. "I've been so busy with work and slaying, time just kinda slips by, especially since Oz came home. Without my morning conversations with Willow, I tend to not even remember what day it is."

"What do you do with Spike all day?" Angel asked.

"I have him sit in the office with me, and I'll talk to him or we'll listen to music," Buffy replied. "If I'm picking, I'll have him follow me around from storage room to storage room, to give him some exercise. Stuff like that."

"He'll follow you under his own power?" he said, studying Spike.

"Yeah, it's one of the commands he knows," she answered with a little sigh. "There are eight of them I've been able to figure out, so far. I just wish one of them was to get him to brush his teeth. That's so not the fun activity."

The cat came flying into the room, flicking the toy mouse with his paws and chasing after it. It rolled near Angel's foot, and Spike used that excuse to claw the dark-haired vampire's leg. "Are you having any trouble getting him to eat?" Angel asked with a grimace, swiftly moving his leg.

"Other than it being kinda messy, no," Buffy replied. "I've been thinking about getting one of those kiddie juice cups. You know, the ones with the lids? But I don't know if the blood will run through the holes that well."

Angel frowned. "How do you do it now?"

"I hold the container from the butcher's shop under his nose until he goes game face, then I tilt his head back and say the command word while basically pouring the blood into his mouth," she answered. "That's why it gets so messy. And blood is not a fun thing to get out of clothes, I know from experience."

"So you pretty much have to force feed him, and he does nothing on his own," he summarized. "I hate to say this, but I think it would be better if we staked him."

"No!" Buffy said sharply, slamming her fork down. "That is something that is not gonna happen." The dark-haired vampire opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off. "Don't even try to convince me otherwise, Angel. If Spike were human, you'd have no qualms about my helping him. And it's my choice, not yours. I'm a big girl, now. I don't need you to hold my hand anymore."

She stood and began clearing the table, her anger at him including her frustration over having him in her home. They were much more relaxed with each other when they were with their friends. She heard him sigh and took that as the cue that he was about to apologize and leave. Like he always did.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Angel said. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know," she said, turning to face him. The ensouled vampire had stood and was hovering in the kitchen doorway. "Do you have any theories?"

"No," he shook his head. "This isn't any sort of vampire dominance reaction, although the use of commands is the same."

"Well, thanks for coming up to take a look at him," Buffy said, her angry gaze softening. "I know its hard for you to get away."

"You know I'll always come if you ask," Angel told her. He turned to leave, but she stopped him.

"Uh, are you going to be sticking around for a day or two?" she asked. "It's Xander's birthday and we were going to celebrate it at Cornerstone's."

Angel gave her a half smile. "I'd love to come. My present to him would be allowing him to make fun of me all night without saying a word."

"Then stop by the bookstore tomorrow night," Buffy said, an echoing smile forming on her face. "I'll meet you there after patrol, then we'll go over to Willow's and try to pry the two lovebird's apart long enough to party."

 

*****

 

"I haven't told you the story about Cordy, Xander and Angel yet, have I?" Buffy said an hour later while she was brushing Spike's hair after feeding and bathing him. "If I have, oh well, you get to hear it again. And remind me to wrap Xand's present tomorrow. It's a new figurine I designed of him doing the whole Van Helsing thing, hot out of the fire."

She picked up another small amount of his long, bleached hair and started on the bottom, working any knots out. "Xander joined the Marines right after high school got out. He left for bootcamp at the end of the summer. I guess when he got turned into a soldier because of Ethan that one Halloween, it really effected him," she said.

"Angel had already left for LA, and soon Cordelia followed. She ended up working for him, kinda like what Willow used to do for Giles before we graduated from high school. Well, in one of Will's letters to Xander, she mentioned that Cordelia was working with Angel, and he panicked. You see, he still loved her. So, he wrote a threatening letter to Angel, telling him to keep her safe and all that," Buffy continued, Spike's hair running lightly through her fingers.

"Angel wrote back, reassuring Xander that he'd watch out for Cordy. That's what started the whole thing," she explained. "Xander and Angel kept writing back and forth, each letter about what was going on in Cordelia's life, until one day she found one of Xand's letters. You can pretty much imagine what happened next. She got mad at him for not writing her directly."

Buffy grinned at the memory of Angel's hasty visit to Sunnydale after Cordelia had found out about the letter-writing. "Well, they began to write to each other and fell back in love. Xander's tour of duty ended in 2005, and they eloped the same day he was discharged. Then they moved back to Sunnydale, Xander got a job at the high school library and Cordy opened her boutique, and the rest is fights and closet make-out sessions."

She pushed her cat out of the way so she could shift on the bed, then continued. "I'm glad they got back together. It's funny, but they never blamed you for kidnaping Willow and Xander which caused their breakup. Don't know why. I know I wanted to beat the crap out of you for making Angel and me call it quits, even if it was only for a month or so," she said.

"But that was a long time ago, and right now it's time for good little vampires and Slayers to go to sleep," she said, allowing Spike to follow the command as she quickly climbed off the bed. Her cat immediately made himself comfortable on the vampire's stomach, kneading the blond with his paws.

Buffy set the comb on the night stand, which she finally cleared of the miscellaneous junk that had gathered there, and shut off the small lamp. Then, like she had started to do every night, she brushed her hand against his cheek, said goodnight, and went to bed.

 

*****

 

"Well? What do you think?" Buffy asked, holding up the small figurine. "Does it look like Xander?"

Neither Spike answered.

She shook her head at the two, her cat sitting on the vampire's lap in her office, the stereo playing softly in the background. "You two are no help," she said, setting the object into bubble wrap, then putting it in its box. The phone rang and she picked it up, not stopping what she was doing. "Morgana's Wonders."

"Hey Buff!"

"I guess Angel and I don't need to bring the pry bar," Buffy said into the phone.

"Nope," Willow giggled. "Oz is packing, so my lips are free enough to talk. For now."

"When's he leaving?" the Slayer asked, putting her specialty sticker on top of the box.

"Monday morning," the redhead sighed. "Two weeks was definitely not long enough."

"When is it ever?" Buffy replied.

"Yeah, but I try not to think that way," Willow said. "So, I take it Angel finally made it."

"He was here last night," she said. "Faerie problem."

"A three week faerie problem?" Willow said.

"Maybe they were really big faeries," Buffy suggested. "It doesn't really matter. He took one look at Spike and wanted to stake him."

"I bet that went over good," she replied.

"Oh yeah," the Slayer said, carefully wrapping the gift. "But you know how it is when we're alone together. However, I did tell him about Xander's birthday hoo-ha, and he'll be there."

"Good," Willow said. "How's Spike doing? I've been a little...busy lately. Sorry."

"No probs, Will," Buffy told her. "You and Oz need the time together, so I don't mind that my best friend has neglected me for two weeks."

"I think I need a shovel."

Buffy laughed. "Ok, I'm the bad. And Spike's doing just fine, far as I can tell." She glanced over at her silent housemate.

"But no change," Willow said.

"No change," she sighed. Turning back to the wrapped gift, she added a small bow to the top. "And Henny hasn't met up with Santiago, so no luck on that front. It's also been real quiet down at Slayerville without you. No new demons, no threats of world endage, no paperwork."

"Just wait, Buff," the redhead warned. "I'll be back on Monday night, brand new sheaf of paper in hand."

"Swell," Buffy teased. "I guess I'd better let you go and help Oz pack. I have a bunch of stuff I need to do before I can leave. I told Angel to meet me at HQ."

"We'll meet you there, too," Willow said. "See ya!"

"Bye," Buffy said, then hung up. She patted the top of her gaily wrapped birthday present, then turned to the two men currently in her life. Suddenly, something she hadn't thought of doing before came to mind. "Come on, Spike. Let's get you fed and cleaned up. I think it's time we get you out of the house." 

 

*****

 

Part Seven

 

Not wanting to have him walk behind her, Buffy took Spike's arm, keeping the silent vampire by her side as they headed for the bookstore. Around her wrist she wore the tie for his hair, which she had left loose and was a perfect contrast to the red, long-sleeved t-shirt he wore, paired with a tan pair of khakis. He was also wearing his shoes for the first time since he'd been in her care.

"It's so nice outside," Buffy commented, breathing in the fresh, fall air. "A good night to be out with your honey. Of course, I don't have a honey. But neither do you. So I guess we should stick together."

Out of the corner of her eye, she kept watch for unwanted intruders on her idyllic walk. The vampire population was slowly, but surely, coming back out of the woodwork. Pretty soon, she'd be back to her normal four or five slays per night.

When they got to the back entrance to the bookstore, Buffy paused outside to look Spike over. "Head up," she instructed, one of the more recent commands she'd figured out. The blond vampire raised his head so he was looking straight ahead, his lifeless eyes not really focusing on anything.

"Now, be on your best behavior. No talking back," she teased, opening the back door using the keycode. She took his arm again and led him through the back room to the basement stairs, maneuvering around boxes of new books and cleaning supplies. As they descended, she could hear the voices of her friends getting ready to go out for the evening.

"Hi guys," Buffy greeted. "Guess who decided he wanted to tag along?" As one, the conversation stopped and they all looked at her and Spike. "Jeez, do I have something on my outfit?"

"Buffy, h-has, er, Spike started communicating?" Giles asked, clearly puzzled by the blond vampire's presence.

"If he has, it hasn't been to me," Buffy replied, leading Spike further into the room. "I just figured it was time to get him out of the house. I doubt he's been outside for any of those six years with Santiago. Maybe being around others will do him some good."

"If he doesn't decide to go Cujo on us," Xander said.

"Well, between the seven of us, we should be able to keep a hold on him," Buffy said. She looked at the others, a frown appearing between her brows. "Willow and Oz not here yet?"

"No," Angel replied. "But I called over there a short while ago, threatening them with that pry- bar." He exchanged a smirk with her.

As conversation struck back up about the Rosenbergs, Cordelia walked a full circle around Spike and Buffy, eyeing him. "Good job, Buffy," she said to the Slayer. "I wasn't sure if you could still mix-and-match. He looks presentable."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "I've been dressing him for a month now, I think I know what he looks good wearing."

Cordelia leaned closer to Buffy to whisper, "And not wearing?"

"Cordy!" Buffy replied with a small giggle as the brunette arched her brow.

"Hi guys!" Willow's cheery voice accompanied the clomping of hers and Oz's footsteps down the stairs. A cacophony of returned greetings met the couple as they joined the group in the basement of the bookstore.

"Oz, I don't think you've ever met Spike," Buffy said, gesturing to the silent vampire. "This be he, although he's normally more..."

"Psychotic?" Xander suggested.

"Lively," Buffy finished with a glare at Xander.

"Hey," Oz said to Spike, as if the vampire was normal. "Willow's told me about you. It's nice to put a name to a face."

Buffy smiled at the werewolf, happy that someone else would treat Spike like she did by speaking directly to him. "So, are we all set to go?" she asked, then held up the gift she quickly dug out of her bag. "Or do we give the birthday boy his presents first?"

"Presents!" Xander yelled. Everyone, save Spike, laughed.

*****  
"That's the eighth girl that's tried to hit on Spike tonight," Cordelia pointed out, taking a sip of her drink. Cornerstone's, the adult Bronze-like club, was packed. Being regulars, the group of friends saw many people they knew, several of whom stopped by to wish Xander a happy birthday. Buffy, Xander and Cordelia were sitting at a table, enjoying the music and watching Willow and Oz dancing together. Spike sat next to Buffy, as still as the statue his nickname depicted.

"If he wasn't a bloodsucker, I'd feel sorry for the guy," Xander said. "Some of those girls were hot." Cordelia cleared her throat, giving him a pissed-off look. "But none of them hold a match to my Cordy."

"I'll let that slide, since it's your birthday," Cordelia said. Her husband gave her a goofy grin and she shook her head.

"Where did Angel and Giles go?" Buffy asked, looking around the club for them. "It doesn't take that long to get refills...ut-oh."

"By that ut-oh, I assume either the G-man is beating Deadboy to a pulp," Xander said. "Or you've spotted a member of fangs-r-us."

"I'll take fangs-r-us for two hundred, Alex," Buffy replied, rising from her seat. "Watch Spike."

"I doubt he's going anywhere," Cordelia said.

Buffy double-checked to make sure she had a stake, then quickly made her way through the crowd and out the door. Silently, she rounded the corner behind the club, sticking to the shadows with well-practiced ease. Voices reached her ears, and she realized that the two she had followed were not vampire and victim, but two vampires.

"It's him," the taller one was saying.

"How do you know?" the other vampire replied.

"I fucked him at one of Santiago's parties," he bragged.

"You?" the shorter one scoffed. "If you fucked the living statue, I fucked the Slayer."

Tall vamp shrugged. "Believe what you want, it's still him."

"Man, I wonder who had the balls to take him away from Santiago," short guy said.

"I don't recognize any of those he's sitting with," he said. "They must have got him during or after the raid."

"Can you imagine the power you'd have by having Santiago's prized possession?" short guy asked. "I've heard that many have tried to take the living statue over the years, but none succeeded. Having him would be like...killing a Slayer."

Tall guy smiled evilly. "Yeah."

Buffy decided it was time to put an end to the two vampires, before they tried to kidnap Spike. Stepping out of the shadows, she cleared her throat. Both vamps turned to her and she smiled. "Hi, guys. Is this a private party, or can anyone join in?"

"It's her," tall guy said. "One of the one's who has the statue."

"That'd be me," Buffy replied. "And since I don't want you guys even thinking about taking Spike, I'm just going to have to dust you." Her stake appeared in her hand, and she let it fly with an expert flick of her wrist. The wood embedded into the taller vampire's heart, and he exploded in a cloud of ash.

But before the stake even hit the ground, the shorter vampire took off running away from the Slayer. "Shit," Buffy swore, pausing to scoop up the stake as she went after him. She rounded the corner in time to see him re-enter the club, causing her to swear again. "Double-shit with a cherry on top."

By the time she re-entered the club herself, he had disappeared into the crowd.

 

*****

 

"So do you think the other vampires will start coming after Spike?" Willow asked a few minutes later. Everyone was back at the table, the Slayer nervously tapping the table with her fingers as she kept an eye out for the runaway vampire.

"Maybe," Buffy replied. "Neither vamp knew that I was the Slayer, they just thought we were a bunch of vampires."

"That's a good thing, right?" Xander said.

"I don't know," she answered.

"On the one hand, it-it means that your identity has not been compromised," Giles pointed out.

"But on the other, it puts everyone in danger," Angel said. "If what Buffy heard was true, Spike is like the golden fleece to those who've heard of him."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of the living statue before," Oz said to Angel.

"I have," the dark-haired vampire replied. "But only in passing. A vampire's toys never really concerned me unless they were human."

"Spike's not a toy," Buffy scowled.

"But he was," Willow told her.

"Hey, I just thought of something," Xander said.

"Now, that's a miracle," Cordelia teased him.

He stuck his tongue out at her, then continued. "Buff, you said the vamps were talking about Santiago. Did they say if he was still a dead man walking?"

"Excellent question, Xander," Giles said. "Buffy?"

"Don't know," Buffy shrugged. "The one I dusted talked about the raid, but didn't say if Santiago was a casualty or not." She paused, furrowing her brow as she thought. "Come to think of it, neither used past tense when talking about him."

"So we should assume that Santiago is still alive," Giles said.

"And that Jefe didn't want to run back to his master with the news that Spike is with us," Willow added.

"Probably because he didn't want to become ashtray material," Cordelia said. "His job was to take care of Spike, and that more than likely included protecting him with his life."

"My Cordy had an intelligent thought," Xander said, faking amazement. "I'm so proud."

"I can't believe you've stooped to repeating my slams," Cordelia told him. "Your loser-ness is showing again."

"Maybe you can use Spike as bait," Oz suggested. "Flush this Santiago out."

"No," Buffy said. "I'm not going to put him in danger when he can't even protect himself."

"Wow, over-protective much?" Cordelia said.

Everyone stared at Buffy, who started to fidget. "No, I just don't want him to be some vampire's plaything again. It's degrading."

"But still-" Willow began.

"NO," Buffy stated firmly. "I'll just keep my ear to the ground, maybe pay a visit to Willy."

"You can spread the rumor that you're willing to make a deal with Santiago," Angel suggested. "Since the vamps don't seem to know that you're the Slayer."

"That may work," Giles said. "It should, at least, confirm whether or-or not Santiago is alive."

"As long as it doesn't put Spike in danger, I'm game," Buffy replied. She glanced at the silent vampire sitting next to her. His head was down, his long hair hiding his face. She reached out and brushed the soft locks behind his shoulder so she could see him. He was, as usual, staring down at nothing. She didn't notice her friends watching her actions with varying degrees of interest. "I think it's time to be getting home. I still have another patrol to do."

"I'll drive you," Angel volunteered, allowing the others the option of staying at the club.

"Thanks," Buffy replied. Since the former couple had been with their friends the entire night, they were once again comfortable around each other. "See you guys tomorrow."

 

*****

 

"I'll keep an ear out for word on Santiago, in case he's left Sunnydale," Angel said as he pulled up outside of Buffy's house.

"If you hear anything, call," Buffy said.

"I will," he told her. "Be careful, alright? And I don't mean just with Santiago."

Buffy nodded, impulsively reaching over to squeeze his arm. "You keep safe, too."

Angel smiled. "Goodnight, Buffy."

"‘Night," she replied, getting out of the car. She opened the back door and got Spike out, then stood there with him until Angel pulled away. With a sigh, she turned and punched the gate code in. "I can never decide if it was good to see him or not," she commented to the blond vampire. "I mean...follow...it still kinda hurts, ya know?"

She opened the front door, leading Spike inside. "Oh well, Angel's going back to LA until another crisis comes up, so it doesn't matter. Come on, let's get you to bed. I gotta go out and introduce a few more vampires to Mr. Pointy."

 

 

Part Eight

 

Ooh now you'll never see,  
Ooh now you'll never know,  
All the things I had planned for you,  
Things for you and me.

I held your hand so tightly  
That I couldn't let it go.  
Now how can life ever be the same?

The rumor of Spike still being alive spread like wildfire. It was almost as if there was a large billboard somewhere declaring a billion dollars was up for grabs, that was how big the living statue was in the vampire community. However, Santiago had yet to make an appearance to reclaim his toy.

Buffy was glad that the vampires she did overhear didn't seem to know exactly who had Spike, which kept him safe. Not even Willy knew he was living with her, despite her going to him for information concerning the peroxide-blond. The smaller vampire who had escaped at the club hadn't gotten a good look at her, nor had he seen the rest of her friends, leaving their identities a secret. The Slayer did not want to endanger any of them in protecting Spike, nor did she wish to put his life in danger, either. Especially not since the silent vampire had wormed his way under her defenses, causing her to care more for him than she should.

"Alright, Spike," Buffy said late one afternoon, a few weeks after Xander's birthday. The vampire was sitting with her in the room she dubbed as her ‘workshop,' where she had the materials to create new figurines. For the past few days, she'd been working in there in response to the number of requests she'd gotten to create a third pair of Drusilla and Spike figurines. "I want you to be brutal, since you knew her the best."

Giving a final wipe to the six-inch, hand-painted Drusilla prototype, she studied it with a critical eye. Based on information that Angel had given her, the female vampiress figurine was dressed in a long, off-white, Victorian gown. Her arms were up in the air, her head was thrown back with her hair fanning behind her, and she was on her toes. "I call it ‘Dancing Under the Stars,'" she told Spike, satisfied with her work.

"Head up," she said, as she turned towards him. After his head raised, she held up the figurine in front of him. "Well? Give me your honest opinion, don't hold anything back."

She waited a moment, as always, hoping he would answer. When he didn't, she began to lower her arm. "Yeah, I figured...." She blinked and frowned when she thought she saw his arm move. "...you'd..." Her eyes grew round as his left hand slowly raised on its own. "...say..." His hand reached out and closed his fingers around the figurine in her hand. "...that..." Her gaze shot up to his face and saw that he was staring at the object now in his hand.

"Spike?" Buffy said in a trembling voice. "Spike, can you hear me?"

Her heart stopped beating when he raised his eyes and looked at her.

His eyes dropped back down to the figurine in his hand, then back up at her, and she watched in shock as one lone tear traveled down his cheek. As his focus started to go blank again, she snapped out of her stupor and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him roughly. "Spike, don't you dare go away again!" she shouted. "Don't you fucking dare!"

Whether it was her shaking, her swearing, or it was just the right moment in time, she would never know. But none of that mattered as the vampire, who'd been nothing but a living statue for six years, began to cry.

Buffy's response was immediate. She sat next to him on the small couch in the workroom and wrapped her arms around him. One of her legs was tucked under her so she could sit sideways on the couch, enabling her to get closer to him as she held his head to her shoulder and let him cry. "That's it, Spike, go ahead and cry. I'm here, I've got you," she murmured comfortingly, her mind racing.

**Drusilla. Drusilla was the key,** she thought, running her hand lightly over his soft hair. **How could I have been so stupid?! Why didn't anyone think to check the database earlier than six years ago, instead of just concentrating on Santiago?!**

The sounds of his sniffles brought her out of her thoughts, and Spike slowly pulled away from her. He raised his head again, and she was so very happy to see him looking at her, a huge smile crossed her face. "Hi," she said softly, her hand reaching out to brush his hair behind his shoulder.

Spike didn't answer her, but his gaze didn't go blank, either. Buffy tilted her head to one side, studying him. "Do you know who I am?" she asked. He didn't move, but she saw the glimmer of recognition in his eyes. "That's right, it's Buffy. I haven't changed that much since high school."

She gestured with her hand. "You're in my house in Sunnydale," she told him. "You've been here around two months, ever since I rescued you from Santiago's place. Do you know who Santiago is?"

Spike looked down at the figurine clutched in his hand. He opened his fist and used his fingers to trace over Drusilla's child-like face. Those fingers were trembling, along with his lower lip, as silent tears began to fall again.

"Spike? Do you understand me?" Buffy asked him, lowering her head to see his face. "Can you nod yes or no?"

When he ever-so-slightly nodded his head yes, tears filled her own eyes. Unheeded, she let them run down her cheeks. She laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed gently. "Welcome back, Spike," she said. "Welcome back."

 

*****

 

"Thank you for calling Book-"

"Drusilla," Buffy said, interrupting Willow. She and Spike had moved to the kitchen, and the blond vampire was at the table, a kiddie cup of blood sitting in front of him. He hadn't touched it, instead he alternated between looking at the Slayer and looking at the figurine still in his hand. "Drusilla is the key. Find out everything you can about what happened between the time Spike left here and when he appeared with Santiago. Do it now."

"Buffy, what is it?" Willow asked, hearing something more than just what Buffy requested. "Did something happen with Spike?"

"Willow, he's back," she replied, feeling her eyes fill with tears once again. "He's back. He's looking at me right now. I mean, really looking at me."

"Oh goddess," Willow breathed. "Oh goddess! Oh goddess, thank you! I'll get right to work. You can count on me. I'll let you know as soon as I find something. Bye!"

"Bye," Buffy said. She hung up the phone, then took a seat next to Spike. "Hey, you're not eating," she said, pushing the bright green cup closer to him. "It's supper-time. Time to feed."

She had said the command word, wondering if he'd obey it. Slowly his hand came up and he took the cup, his head raising to look at her. "Go ahead, it's fresh," she encouraged. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she let it go when he lifted the cup to his lips and began to drink the blood through the safety-lid. She had purchased the children's cups the weekend after Angel had left, and had found they cut down on the mess of feeding him tremendously.

Spike was watching her warily as he drank, and she tried to give him a reassuring smile. "This is probably really wiggy for you," she said. He nodded. "I guess I should ask you first if you remember anything."

His eyes dropped down to the figurine in his hand as he lowered the now-empty cup to the table. She saw his lower lip start to tremble again, and she quickly reached out and put a reassuring hand on his wrist. His gaze shot up to hers, his eyes reflecting confusion and pain, and she held fast to her emotions which were threatening to overflow again. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. Especially not since I've spent the past two months taking care of you," she told him. "Do you remember me taking care of you?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if thinking for a moment, then he nodded. "Do you remember someone else taking care of you before me?" Buffy asked him. He nodded again. "Do you remember Santiago?"

This time he shook his head no, so she clarified the question. "Do you remember being used as a toy by other vampires?" His gaze dropped back down to the figurine in his hand. When he didn't answer after a few moments, she took it as a yes. "It's ok, Spike. I don't think any less of you because of what you've been through."

When he raised his head, she saw slight anger in his eyes. "Are you mad at me? Or those vamps that hurt you?" Buffy said. She watched as he opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Frowning, she asked, "Spike, are you trying to talk?"

Spike closed his mouth and nodded, the anger in his blue eyes changing back into confusion. She realized at that moment that his facial expression never altered. It was like looking at a mask, with only his eyes being alive. "Oh my god, you've forgotten," she gasped. "You haven't talked or moved or done anything other than obeying the command words in so long, you forgot how!"

 

*****

 

Spike was confused. He remembered everything that happened over the past years, including Buffy taking care of him, but it was as though he'd been watching his life on television, rather than it really happening. Now it suddenly felt like he'd been given a pair of Three-D glasses, allowing him to interact once again. The trouble was, he didn't know how.

Sitting across the table from Buffy was equally as strange. Why would someone who hated him take the time to care for him? He wanted to ask her that, but when he opened his mouth to say something, nothing came out. He couldn't figure out why.

Then she told him that he had not talked in so long, he'd forgotten how, and he realized she was correct. Speaking was something that had been as natural to him as walking, but when he tried to remember how he did it, he couldn't.

Frustrated, his eyes dropped down to the figurine in his hand. It was Drusilla, his Princess, so perfect it was as if he were looking at her instead of an object only six-inches tall. She was dancing, and he could almost hear her laughter, see her in his mind waving her arms in the air, the moonlight playing over her pale skin. The tears came again, and he let them flow, not caring that he was crying in front of his supposed mortal enemy.

Then he felt Buffy's arms encircle around him, holding his head against her breast, and instead of revulsion, he wanted to sink into her embrace. He wanted her to comfort him.

 

*****

 

When the tears dried up, Buffy slowly released Spike, brushing his hair behind his shoulders. "Why don't we go splash some cold water on your face," she suggested. "It'll make you feel better."

Spike nodded and rose, and she led him, without giving the command word, back to the master bathroom. She saw him glance at the large tub. "Would you like to take a bath instead? It's the normal time I'd give you one."

He shook his head no so quickly, she laughed. "Spike, you don't have to be embarrassed. I didn't look," she told him. "Well, not much."

If vampire's could blush, he would have been bright red. As it was, he shifted back and forth on his feet, looking anywhere but at her or the tub. With a final giggle, she said, "If you want to take a bath, I can leave you alone. Only if you promise not to drown."

After a moment, he nodded. "Ok, I'll turn on the tap," she said, moving to do so. "All you have to do to turn it off is push the knob in. To unplug the drain, lift up on this lever, got it?" He nodded again, still not looking at her.

"Soap and shampoo are right here," she pointed out. "Yours is the green towel. Your toothbrush is the black one, toothpaste is in the top right drawer. Do you need anything else?" He shook his head no. "Then I'll leave you alone."

As she went to pass by him, he stepped in front of her. She looked up at him curiously. "Yeah, Spike?"

Spike met her eyes at the same time she felt him take and press the figurine into her hand. "Do you want me to go put this in your room?" she asked. He shook his head no. "Ok. I'll put it with the others then."

Buffy left the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her, then looked down at the figurine. "Wherever you are, Drusilla, thank you. Thank you for bringing him back."

 

 

Part Nine

 

"After Spike left Sunnydale, he returned to Brazil and got back together with Drusilla," Willow told Buffy over the phone half-an-hour later. Spike was still in the tub, and Buffy had made herself a quick dinner while she waited for him. "It doesn't say how, only that they were really, really close again."

"Well, he did say he was going to torture her until she loved him again," Buffy said. "That's probably what he did. So what happened next?"

"They went around South America, living the vampire high life," the hacker replied. "Then one day, they just disappeared while in Cuba."

"How does this info compare to the living statue info?" Buffy asked.

"Hold on a sec," Willow said. "Um, the first reports of Santiago's la estatua vivo started...uh...it looks like about six months after Spike and Drusilla disappeared."

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" the Slayer said sadly.

"Yeah," Willow replied. "Drusilla died and Spike was devastated."

"Santiago used that to his advantage, and made Spike his plaything," she completed. "If I find that bastard, I'm going to rip his nuts off and make him eat them."

"Um, ouch," Willow said over the line. "But, Santiago deserves it, so not ouch."

"Right on, girl," Buffy told her.

Willow giggled. "You know, maybe Spike would want to be the one who...you know. Chops his dick off and shoves it up his own ass."

"Willow!"

 

*****

 

"Spike?" Buffy said, knocking on the bathroom door. "Are you alright?" When she didn't hear any splashing or other noise, she opened the door a crack. "I'm coming in."

She opened the door and found Spike sitting on the edge of the tub, towel around his waist, looking at his wet hair. "Hey, I brought you some clothes," she said, setting the pants and blue shirt down. He looked up at her and she smiled. "Get dressed. I'll meet you back in your room, ok?"

Spike nodded, and she left. A few minutes later, he appeared in the bedroom doorway, and another smile crossed her face, this time because he remembered where his room was located. "Have a seat," she said, patting the bed in front of her. He walked over to her and sat on the edge of the bed. Buffy took the comb that had been on her lap and began to brush his hair.

He pulled away from her at first, giving her a startled look. "Relax, Spike. I like doing this," she told him. "If you don't want me too..." She left the sentence dangling. After a moment, he gestured to the comb, then turned his back to her, allowing her to continue.

"I talked to Willow," Buffy began, running the comb over his peroxide-locks. "We both agree that you probably want to go and kick Santiago's butt. And I'm sorry about Drusilla. I hope you two were happy while she was still alive."

Spike nodded his head slightly, barely perceptible as she brushed his hair. "Anyway, there's a problem with you just running out to exact revenge on the prick," she continued. "We don't know where Santiago is. There's also a whole hell of a lot of vampires itching to get their hands on the living statue. Although I guess you can't be called that anymore."

She shifted on the bed to get more comfortable. "You probably have a ton of questions for me," Buffy said. "Do you think maybe you could write them down?"

Spike shook his head no and she frowned. "Why not?" He turned to face her, and he shook his head again as he glared at her. "Jeez, sorry. No need to get mad at me."

He shook his head again, and pointed to himself. "Um, you," Buffy deciphered. He nodded, then made a writing motion with his hand. "Write?" He then shook his head no. "You don't write?"

He nodded sharply. "But you already said you didn't want to wri-...oh," she said. "You don't know how to write." He made a gesture of affirmation with his hand while nodding again. "Wait, how come you don't know how to write?"

Spike rolled his eyes and Buffy started to giggle. "Sorry, it's not like you can just explain it to me," she cleared her throat. "Ok, lemme guess. Turn around so I can continue brushing your hair, or you'll get knots."

She waited until he did so, then began questioning him as she combed. "You don't know how to write." Nod. "Do you know how to read?" Nod. "Were you ever taught to write?" Shake. "Is this going to get annoying really fast?" Nod.

Buffy rolled her eyes this time, as she pulled back his hair and wrapped the tie around it. "There you go," she said. "All done."

Spike turned to face her and he reached his hand back to pull the hair over his shoulder. He held it up, looking at her with a question in his eyes. "I like it," she told him, a smile playing over her lips. "Makes you look dashing." His head dropped slightly, and he looked at her skeptically.

"Ok, you look more like a guy off the cover of one of those bodice rippers." He tilted his head slightly in confusion. "A trashy romance novel," Buffy explained, a blush staining her cheeks.

When she met his eyes, they were dancing and she knew he was grinning on the inside, even though his mouth didn't turn up into a smile. "Sure, go ahead, laugh at me," she told him. "See if I care."

In response, he reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently. His eyes were now unfathomable, and she wondered what he wanted to say. But instead of asking, she simply squeezed his hand back. "Come on, lets get your shoes on and we'll head over to HQ. If we're going to get you talking again, we're going to have to do...blech...research."

 

*****

 

Spike walked next to Buffy, looking curiously at her every once in awhile as they headed down the streets of Sunnydale. He had enjoyed having her comb his hair, thought it was funny that she thought he resembled someone off the cover of a book, and wanted to tell her that he was glad that she cared about him. None of these were normal thoughts in relation to the Slayer.

But for some reason, it truly didn't matter to him that the blond by his side was the Slayer. She certainly hadn't acted like one, witness him still alive, and he didn't feel any desire to kill her. He didn't even feel the normal bloodlust that came with being beside a human. He wondered if it was because he'd been having animal blood, or if it was Buffy herself. It was probably the first, but he was actually hoping it was the latter.

He'd also met her cat when she went to retrieve a few weapons from a hidden closet near her front door. He'd been astounded when the cat began to wind around his legs, rubbing against him and purring. He also couldn't believe that, not only did the ball of fuzz like him, the feline was named after him, too.

"We're here," Buffy said, gesturing at the front of a closed bookstore. "This is Bookends. Giles and Willow own it and Ethan sells his painting out of the second floor."

Spike nodded, letting her know he understood. He followed her around to the back of the store and watched as she entered a series of numbers on a keypad. The door clicked and she pulled it open, allowing him to step inside first. There was a single light on in the back room, and he looked around curiously. He remembered coming through here once before, but nothing had really registered.

"Come on, everyone's downstairs," she told him, taking his arm and leading him towards the stairwell.

He glanced down at her small hand against the material of his blue shirt and decided he liked it there. He had to turn his attention back to where they were going as they walked down the stairs. He didn't want to trip for the first time, now that he was under his own power.

"Hey guys, guess what's shakin'?" Buffy greeted the others in the room.

Spike looked from person to person, recognizing the Watcher, Willow and Xander. There was another older man there and a brunette sitting next to Xander. Suddenly, he heard a yip and saw yet another ball of fuzz run at him. He latched onto Buffy's hand on his arm and stumbled back a few steps as the long-haired fluff-ball started jumping on his leg.

"Angel, down," Willow ordered, rising from her seat to collect the dog.

The blond vampire looked at Buffy, who grinned at him. "Yes, the dog's named Angel, just like the cat's named Spike," she said.

"Hi, Spike," Willow said, smiling at him easily because of her caring nature. "Welcome to HQ."

Spike's grip on Buffy's hand tightened and he realized he was feeling fear, but he didn't know why. He looked down at the Slayer again and she removed his hand, only to entwine her fingers with his other one, and give him a reassuring squeeze.

"Spike's had a lot happen today, so try not to pester him too much," Buffy told the others. She glanced up at the vampire. "Um, I don't know if you know everyone. This is Willow. Over at the table is Xander and Cordelia. I know you know Giles and the tall, annoying fellow is Ethan."

"Very amusing, Buffy," Ethan said drolly.

"Well, he's dressed ok," Cordelia said, looking the vampire over. "So things can't be that bad."

"I take it now that you're back, you're going to try and kill us," Xander said to Spike. "I want to put my two cents in and say that I won't like that. I happen to like my being alive."

"What about me?" Cordelia asked.

"He can have you if it saves me," Xander teased in reply. She smacked him.

"He won't try to kill us," Buffy stated confidently. "Because if he does, he'd have the best vampire slayers in the world pissed at him, and I doubt that he wants that."

Spike shook his head no, heartily agreeing with her. In no way, shape, or form did he want to go up against those in this room, not after hearing all the stories over the two months he'd been with her on their victories. It felt rather odd that he remembered those stories clearly, but almost like he'd been listening to a radio rather than her telling him in person.

"I-I take it there is a reason for your coming, not just for reintroducing Spike," Giles said.

"Yep, research," Buffy replied.

Willow snorted, then covered her face. "Sorry, Buff."

"Hey, I research, too!" Buffy protested.

"About as often as you do tear-downs," Giles said. The Slayer scowled at him.

"He is right, Buffy," Xander said. "You are on the less academic side of the team."

Ethan snickered and Buffy turned her glare on him. "Do you have something to add, Ethan?"

"Of course not, my dear," Ethan replied, giving her a smile.

"If you guys are done making fun of me, I'd like to get some work done before I go on patrol," Buffy said.

"Ok, we're done," Xander said. Then added, "For now."

"So, what's on the agenda?" Willow asked, taking a seat behind the PC once again, dog in her arms.

"How to get Spike talking again," Buffy answered. She led the blond vampire over to the table and gestured for him to take a seat next to her. "Did you tell them about that, Wills?"

"Yeah," Willow replied, looking at Spike. "Kinda sucks, huh?"

Spike nodded. That was an understatement.

"Can you write?" Giles asked.

Buffy started to chuckle and Spike glared at her. "Sorry. Um, we've had this conversation earlier, with lots of charades. The answer is a definite not."

"Well, I suppose that would put a damper on communication," Giles said.

"That's why we're here, Giles," Buffy said. "That and the fact that there wasn't anything good on tv."

 

*****

 

Part Ten

 

Spike was terrified. Buffy had left over an hour earlier to go on patrol, leaving him with the others. He was seated at the table, books spread out over the surface. Some of them were about vampires, but most were psychology books. Titles such as Child Abuse and Neglect, Post- Traumatic Stress Syndrome, and Sexual Abuse glared up at him.

His eyes flitted nervously from one person to another. Willow was over at the large PC, using the Internet to get the most up-to-date medical journal references. Xander was across from him, using a laptop in a similar fashion. The girl named Cordelia, who he found out was Xander's wife, was going through the books on the table, as was Giles. The taller man, Ethan, had disappeared upstairs with the dog, Angel. Giles had commented that Ethan was a painter, and that he worked mainly at night while the group was present.

Clenching his teeth together, Spike tried to force away the feeling of terror that was coming over him. He knew, logically, he had nothing to fear from the people in the room with him, they would have staked him the moment the Slayer had left if they were going to kill him. But that didn't stop the feelings that were bombarding him. Fear, love, hate, pain, confusion, anger, sadness, jealousy, guilt. All of these emotions were rolling through him for the first time since Drusilla had died, and he was terrified they'd overwhelm him, that they'd drive him insane. He wished that he could go back to the blankness, back to feeling nothing.

"Spike?" He jerked his head to the right. Willow was standing there, a concerned expression on her face. He quickly moved his head and saw that the others were watching him, too. He felt trapped. He felt like a bug under a microscope. He felt like he was losing control. He wanted that feeling of nothing to come back more than anything at that moment.

"Spike, are you ok?" Willow asked. He saw her motion to the others with her hand, and they went back to work. He looked up at her, not realizing there were tears streaming down his face.

"Are you ok?" she repeated, her voice soft and compassionate. Spike shook his head no. He had no reason to hide the truth. Maybe she could send him back to the blankness. "Do you want me to get Buffy?"

Buffy. The Slayer. The woman who'd been caring for him these past few months. She wanted to help him, not hurt him. She had treated him like a person, not a plaything. She had cared that Drusilla had gone, created a beautiful figurine of his black queen, had hoped that he had been happy with her. She cared about him. He nodded his head.

"Ok, I'll get her," Willow said. She walked over to the telephone and quickly dialed a series of numbers, then hung up. She then turned to the others. "Hey guys, why don't we call it a night?"

"You won't get an argument from me," Xander said, shutting off the laptop.

"Do you want us to put these away?" Cordelia asked, piling a few books up.

"That is quite alright, Cordelia," Giles said. "We shall get them tomorrow."

"Come on, Cord, let's skeedaddle before they change their minds," Xander said, putting his arm around Cordelia's shoulder and leading her towards the stairs.

"I shall go rescue Angel from Ethan," Giles told Willow, then he, too, went up the stairs.

Willow walked back over to Spike and started straightening the books. "Buffy should be here in a few minutes, depending on where she is in town. I figured everyone was making you uncomfortable, that's why I sent them packing," she told him. "I'd leave you alone, too, but I promised Buffy you wouldn't be left by yourself. It's too dangerous, even here at headquarters."

Willow was correct, he did feel less threatened now that she was the only other person in the room. He rubbed a shaky hand over his face and he found it wet from the tears he hadn't known he'd shed. He let his hand drop to his lap and closed his eyes, waiting for Buffy to arrive.

 

*****

 

"Will you die already," Buffy growled, as she ducked under the vampire's meaty arm and kicked the back of his knee. She'd been fighting with this particular vampire for ten minutes, and she was nowhere close to dusting him. Not that she hadn't tried. In fact, there were several stakes sticking out of his fleshy body. However, none of them got far enough past the fat to puncture his heart.

"I have nothing against large people," Buffy grunted, while trying to knock him to the ground. "But large vampires are another story."

The vampire didn't have any real fighting skill. He used his enormous sized arms to constantly try and grab her or punch her. Buffy continuously had to dart out of his reach, all the while kicking or punching him in the face. She had learned rather quickly that he felt nothing if she hit him anywhere else.

Her eyes darted around the desolate street where she'd met the obese vampire. Patrol had been hard, the number of vampires out searching for Spike or fighting amongst themselves, for the same reason, having increased. She'd already dusted close to ten, including a three-vamp tag team that had left her sore and bruised. Then she had gotten the page and had been on her way back to the bookstore when Porky had attacked.

"Bigger stake, need a bigger stake," she muttered, her foot lashing out and clipping him across the jaw. She darted away from him, jumping over a short wall to try and find any wood. The vampire came after her, slowly but surely. She hopped back up on the wall, using the advantage of height to smash his nose with her fist. Then she leapt to a nearby table, then another and another, keeping the irate vampire behind her as she searched for something to end the fight.

Buffy's toe kicked something as she landed lightly on the next table surface, and she watched as the small, white object skidded to the edge. Bending, she scooped it up and let out a small, evil chuckle. "Hey, big guy," she called, turning to face the vampire who was weaving his way between the tables. She waited until he was almost upon her, then flipped over his head to land on the table behind him.

Without pause, she struck a match from the little, white book and dropped it down his shirt. He let out a scream as he began to burn. She lit a second one, tossing it into his hair, then a third as he swung around and tried to either grab her or put out the flames. She smiled at him, then flicked the match at his chest. The flame caught on his shirt, and soon the entire vampire was burning.

She then leapt straight up, landing on the edge of the building's overhang, and watched as the vampire disintegrated to ashes. Because of his size, and the fact that the metal tables were bolted to the cement, he couldn't thrash around and light anything else on fire. Some of the metal became blackened, but no permanent damage was done.

Buffy looked at the matchbook in her hand, then pocketed it. With a final glance at the ash pile, she walked along the edge of the building until the end, then dropped down to the street. Five jogged minutes later, she entered the bookstore and went down the stairs.

"I'm here," she called as she descended. "Sorry it took so long. It's been really busy out there." She came into the room and only saw Spike, Willow and Angel. "Where'd everyone go?"

"I sent them home," Willow explained, then gestured to Spike.

Buffy nodded imperceptibly and walked over to the silent vampire. He was sitting at the table as she'd left him, eyes closed. Crouching next to his chair, she reached out and laid a hand on top of his knee. "Spike?"

Spike opened his eyes and looked down at her, and she could see dirty streaks on his face where he had wiped his tears, the ink from the print of the books having come off on his hands. He reached out and clasped the hand on his knee.

"Are you alright?" Buffy asked quietly. He shook his head no. "Do you want to go home?" He nodded. "Ok. Wills, can you give us a ride?"

"Sure," Willow replied, picking up Angel.

"Thanks," Buffy said. She straightened and sifted through a few books on the table, choosing a few to take home with her. Then she held out her hand to Spike. "Come on, let's go home."

*****  
"There you go, all clean," Buffy gave Spike a lopsided smile, and set the washcloth on the night stand. She tucked her leg under her and got more comfortable on the bed. Spike was leaning back against the pillows, which were propped up on the headboard, and was clenching and unclenching his right hand on the sheet next to him. "Feeling better?"

Spike started to nod his head, then changed his mind and shook it no. "Too much, huh?" she asked, reaching out to brush her fingers along his left forearm. He nodded and looked down at her moving fingers. "It's ok that it was. No one expects you to suddenly be Mr. Happy-Vamp."

He shrugged and she frowned at him. "Don't go all male on me, Spike," she told him. Spike raised his head and gave her a quizzical look. "What I mean is, don't worry if you feel overwhelmed or sad or angry or anything at all. I'm just glad that you are feeling."

Buffy removed her fingers from his arm and leaned forward to brush them against his cheek. "I'm just glad that you're back," she told him softly. Tears started to fall from his eyes at her quiet statement, and, without hesitation, she moved up so her back was against the headboard beside him and pulled him into her arms. His head rested against her breast, his left arm went around behind her as his right circled her in front, so he was half-twisted as he hugged her tightly and silently wept.

 

*****

 

Cos my heart is broken in pieces  
Yes my heart is broken in pieces  
Since you've been gone

It seems in a moment,  
You're whole world can shatter...

Spike could hear Buffy's slow, steady heartbeat beneath him as the tears fell down his cheeks. She was gently running her hand over his head, whispering soothingly to him. He didn't understand what was going on inside of him, or why she would want to comfort him, but he was glad that she was there.

He was holding onto her like a lifeline, soaking up her presence and caring, as the things he hadn't felt in so long bubbled forth. Memories hit of the night Drusilla had died, the night he fell into the abyss of nothingness. He wept for her, for himself, for the unfairness of her death. She had bent down to pick a flower and didn't see the broken fence. If she had only turned in the opposite direction to show him her prize, he wouldn't have had to witness the stunned expression on her face as the fence piece embedded in her heart, or hear his name tumble from her lips as she turned to dust. Nor would he have had to see the white flower fall silently to lay atop of her ashes.

His arms tightened around Buffy, and she responded in kind. "Shh, it'll be ok, Spike," she soothed, laying her cheek on his head. "Everything will be ok."

 

 

Part Eleven

 

As the weeks passed, things changed around Buffy's house, but not too much. Buffy gave Spike the run of the place, allowing him to set whatever schedule he liked. She had been surprised, at first, when he chose to still sit with her in her office as she worked, or when he silently volunteered to help her pick orders. He also chose to eat when she did, drinking his cup of blood while she ate her own meal.

During that time, Buffy had read so many books, she could be an expert on the various types of abuse and other traumatic experiences. Spike had nightmares from time to time, causing him to thrash in his bed loud enough to wake her. Without pause, she would go to his room and climb into the bed with him, holding him as silent tears coursed down his cheeks, until he fell back to sleep. Other times, he would seek her out for comfort, curling up next to her on the couch at night or interrupting her work for a hug.

She'd found him in front of the glass case where her original figurines were housed one day, and she watched from the doorway as he put one hand on the glass and stared at the figurines of Drusilla. She left him alone shortly thereafter to grieve, and later that day he seemed to feel better, even going so far as to give her one of his unique smiles by pressing his teeth slightly down on his bottom lip.

Communication, however, was still a problem and it frustrated Spike to no end. He wanted to talk to Buffy, to ask her why she was helping him, to tell her what was on his mind. He wanted to laugh out loud when she put the safety lid on the cup out of habit before handing it to him. He wanted to tell her about Drusilla and how happy they'd been, about how she died, about how much he loved the figurines Buffy had created.

He also wanted to tell her about his lack of bloodlust and debate with her why he had no desire to hunt or to feed other than what she provided. He had his theories -- he'd only fed once a day in so long, his body didn't need more; he'd forgotten what it felt like to want to hunt; he didn't want to do something that would anger Buffy - but none of them could he tell her about because he couldn't speak or write.

One night, when the Slayer had gone on patrol, he'd been watching television and almost smacked his head for being so dumb when he saw a woman communicating using sign language. He'd dug out the phone book and found the page which announced classes in American Sign Language, then showed it to Buffy when she got home.

She had called and enrolled them in the beginner's class the day after he'd shown her the listing in the Yellow Pages. Both luckily and unluckily, there was a class being held at night. Luckily, because Spike was a vampire. Unluckily, because of all the other vampires still out looking for him. Her nightly patrols were now made in teams of three due to the rise in the number of vampires coming out to Sunnydale searching for the elusive living statue.

They both found that they were lightning-fast learners, having advanced from the beginner's level to the intermediate in the few short weeks they'd taken the American Sign Language class. It was mostly due to the fact that Spike really wanted to communicate with Buffy, and she wanted to know what he had to say equally as much.

Since learning how to communicate with each other, their relationship slowly began to evolve from a care-giving one to more of a friendship. Spike was able to tell her about his nightmares, he didn't dissolve into tears for no reason, and he didn't feel the need to hold onto Buffy like she was his only link keeping him sane.

However, that didn't stop them from hugging or snuggling together on the couch when they watched television. He spent his days with Buffy in the office, but now he helped her rather than just sat there. When she was working on things he couldn't help with, or she went to meet with the others because of some demon or other problem, he'd work-out in the basement, relearning to fight. Sometimes they would spar together -- he knew she would let him win at times - or he'd watch her practice on a dummy.

The only thing she didn't allow him to do was leave the house unaccompanied. And when he did go somewhere with her, they always got a ride with one of her friends. She explained how dangerous it had become, and she made him promise to stay inside.

"Willow talked to Angel today," Buffy said, running the comb through his wet hair. That was the one thing that had stayed constant. Each night after he cleaned up, she would comb his long hair for him. She'd share things about her past, things no one else knew about, and once they'd learned some sign language, he had returned the same. "He's been in absentia for so long now, I was actually starting to get worried."

‘In absentia?' Spike spelled out. ‘You know Latin?'

"Some," she replied, shifting so she could see his hands better. "Hang around Giles and Willow long enough and you will, too."

‘What did hair-boy say?' Spike asked.

"Angel," she emphasized, tugging on his hair. "Thinks he knows why you can't talk. He'll be coming up here tomorrow night."

Spike pretended to shoot himself in the head in reply.

"Are you going to be nice to him?" Buffy asked.

‘No,' he replied.

"Can you at least pretend to be nice to him?" she sighed.

‘Will you give me something if I do?' Spike asked.

Buffy arched her brow. "What do you want?"

Spike shrugged and gave her one of his smiles.

"Well, then your answer is maybe," she replied. "As long as it doesn't involve me wearing only whipped cream..." He turned his head and looked her over from head to toe, then licked his lips. She flushed, then forced his head forward again. "Don't even go there, buster."

‘Chocolate syrup?' he suggested.

Buffy's flushed face became even redder.

 

*****

 

‘I know what I want,' Spike told Buffy the next night while they were sitting in the kitchen eating dinner.

"What you want?" Buffy asked, using her hands as well as speaking aloud. She had learned that using sign language while speaking made it easier for her to pick it up, plus it allowed her a way to communicate if she ever met anyone who was hearing impaired. "For what?"

‘Being nice to jerk-off,' he replied, using the universal, crude hand gesture.

"Spike!" she scowled. "Do that again, and you aren't getting anything!" The bell rang and she stood. "That's Angel, now behave."

Spike followed her out of the kitchen, signing as he walked. ‘Not unless I get what I want.'

Buffy only saw part of his words. "What?" she said, reaching for the doorknob.

‘Not unless I get what I want,' he repeated.

"I have to answer the door, Spike. I don't have time to argue with you."

She opened the door and put on a fake smile for the dark-haired vampire standing on the other side. "Angel, hi."

"Hi," Angel replied, entering the house as she stepped back. "Hello, Spike."

Spike waved mockingly and Buffy hit him. ‘What?' he asked her innocently.

"Don't give me ‘what'?" she scowled at him. "You know exactly what."

‘Who me?' Spike said.

"Yes, you," Buffy replied, closing the door. She turned to Angel. "Sorry, Angel. Spike's being an obnoxious prick. You know how he is."

"That I do," Angel said, smirking at the peroxide-blond.

Spike flicked them both off, then stalked back to the kitchen.

"Hold on a minute, will you?" she asked Angel, then went after Spike. As she entered the kitchen, she said, "What's up with you? Angel's here to help you talk."

‘I want to go out,' Spike stated.

"What?" Buffy asked, confused.

‘Out. Of the house,' he signed. ‘By myself.'

"No."

‘Yes.'

"Spike, it's too dangerous," Buffy said.

‘I'm not a baby,' Spike replied.

"I know you're not," Buffy said. Neither of them noticed Angel come into the doorway. "But it's still too dangerous. I've told you how bad it's been these past few weeks. Everybody and their vampire's uncle has come to Sunnydale looking for you."

‘I'm sick of being in the house,' he told her. ‘I won't be nice to Angel if I can't go out.'

"That's blackmail," Buffy narrowed her eyes at him. Spike shrugged. "No deal."

‘Then no nice,' he replied.

"Grr," Buffy growled, throwing her hands in the air. "You are such an idiot. Do you actually think I'm stopping you because I get off on it?"

‘Like you care,' Spike signed.

"Of course I care," she stated, moving until she was standing practically toe-to-toe with him. "That's why I don't want you to go out. I spent all this time getting you back to your somewhat- normal self, I care about you too much to lose you."

‘You mean it?' he asked.

"Mean what?" she said.

‘You care for me,' he answered.

Buffy could actually read the insecurity in his eyes, plus a little something more. A soft smile replaced the peeved frown on her face. "Yes, I do," she replied, both with her hands and her voice.

‘I...,' Spike paused, dropping his hands to his sides before starting again. ‘I care for you, too.'

Buffy's smile grew. "I'm glad."

‘I still want to go out,' he said, giving her his unique smile.

She shook her head and sighed. "Fine. But we'll go somewhere together. And if I decide we have to leave, we leave, got it?"

‘You win,' Spike replied. He reached up and brushed his hand across her cheek, then signed, ‘This time.'

Angel cleared his throat, and both their heads jerked to where he was standing. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," he said.

‘Right,' Spike signed, clearly not believing his sire. He could almost feel the waves of jealousy coming from the other vampire. With a wicked glint in his eye, he reached down and put his hand on the small of Buffy's back, as she turned to face Angel, in a proprietary gesture.

"You didn't," Buffy replied, frowning slightly when she felt Spike's hand on her back. "So, how are things in La-La Land?"

"Rough," Angel said, glaring at Spike. "Guess where all the vampires are stopping over on their way to Sunnydale in search of ‘la estatua vivo'?"

"I take it you've been busy," she commented, moving to clear her dishes from the table. She almost ran into Spike on her way to the sink. "Sit down," she hissed at him. Then added in a louder voice, "Angel, why don't you take a load off?"

Angel and Spike both sat at the kitchen table as Buffy put her dishes in the sink. "Willow has been trying to reach you for weeks," she said, continuing the conversation as she returned to the table. "We were starting to worry."

‘I wasn't,' Spike signed.

"Drink that and be quiet," Buffy told the blond, handing him his plastic blue cup. She saw Angel hide a chuckle, but she chose to ignore it. Her cat came into the kitchen to investigate the newcomer, took one sniff at Angel, then turned around and left again.

"Yeah, I've been extremely busy," Angel replied to the earlier comment. "I'd get up, dust a dozen or so vampires, the crawl back into bed only to do it again the next night."

"Same here," she said, watching as Spike finished his meal. She didn't like the mischievous gleam in his eyes over the rim of the cup. "I thought they'd give up by now, considering the last time Spike was out and about was on Xander's birthday. Why would they still be after him?"

Spike handed her his cup, then replied to her question. ‘I'm cute?'

She rolled her eyes. "You wish."

"When did you two learn sign language?" Angel asked.

"We started three-four weeks ago," Buffy replied, adding the cup to the pile in the sink. "It was so nice to stop playing Twenty Questions."

Angel looked at Spike. "Do you still want to relearn to speak?"

‘Yes, dummy,' Spike replied.

"He said yes," Buffy said, giving Spike a look.

"How come I get the feeling that's not all he said?" Angel asked, glaring at Spike. Spike shrugged.

"Because we know him too well," she answered. Then she signed to Spike, without speaking, ‘Be good.' He gave her a thumbs up sign and one of his unique smiles, which made her trust him about as far as she could throw him. "So, what's this magical potion that'll get Fabio talking again?"

Angel didn't bother to hide his chuckle. "And here I was thinking he looked more along the lines as one of the Nelson twins."

"The Cinderella twins?" Buffy asked, grinning. "They sang ‘After the Rain' and ‘Love and Affection,' right? I think I have that tape somewhere. They were really popular when I was ten."

Spike gave her another rude gesture, which only made her laugh. "Sorry, sorry, my bad." She cleared her throat. "Go ahead, Angel. Enlighten us with your wisdom."

"Vampires don't breathe," Angel told them.

Buffy gave him a strange look. "And?"

"To talk, you have to breathe," the dark-haired vampire explained.

"Duh," Buffy smacked her forehead. "Giles is going to kick himself for not realizing that."

Angel turned to Spike. "You need to purposely inhale, then talk as you exhale."

‘Can't be that easy,' Spike signed.

"He says it can't be that easy," Buffy translated.

"It probably isn't," Angel said. "But that's how vampires talk. We just get so used to it over the years, it becomes second nature to inhale before speaking."

"Do you want to try it?" Buffy asked Spike.

Spike started to tell her yes, then changed his mind. ‘Not with Angel here.'

Buffy nodded, understanding. "Ok. Well, I gotta patrol. Care to join me, Angel?" she said, giving a pointed look to the older vampire.

"Sure," Angel replied. He rose and followed her out of the kitchen, but not before smirking at Spike. "You can fill me in on what's been happening up here. I feel like I've missed a lot."

‘Pillock,' Spike spelled out, glaring at his sire's retreating back.

 

*****

 

It wasn't that easy. Spike glared at the cat, who was acting as his audience. The cat stared right back at him. The vampire then inhaled, opened his mouth, and exhaled. Not even a squeak.

Frustrated, he threw himself onto the couch in the living room and grabbed the remote. Flicking it on, he rapidly flipped channels until he found the History Channel, then tossed the remote on the couch beside him. He liked to point out the mistakes to whoever would listen, be it Buffy or the cat.

He heard the front door open and turned his head to see Buffy and Angel enter, happily carrying on a conversation. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, then turned back to the television.

"Hi Spike," Buffy said, coming into the living room. "Having fun?"

‘I want to go out,' he signed.

"What, now?" she asked. He nodded sharply. "But don't you think...," she trailed off when he glared at her. "Ok, let me go get cleaned up. Cornerstone's is the only place open...well, except for the Bronze, but we're not going there."

Spike nodded and she turned to Angel. "Looks like we're going out. Will you call Willow and tell her to spread the word? I'd rather as many of us be there as possible, just in case."

‘Does everyone have to go?' Spike asked her.

"Yes, or you don't go," she answered. "I'll be right back."

"Ok," Angel replied. Buffy left the room, then the dark-haired vampire looked at Spike. "I hope you realize how much trouble she's going to for you."

Spike stared at the flickering television screen, studiously ignoring him.

"If she gets hurt, I will personally stake you myself," Angel told him. "But only after I torture you for days." He turned and left the room.

Spike turned off the television, then stood and went to his room. Closing the door behind the cat, who had followed him, he inhaled and tried one more time to speak. It didn't work.

 

 

Part Twelve

 

Spike knocked on the door to Buffy's bedroom, having changed his clothes after conferring with the cat. He hadn't been out in so long under his own power, other than to class, he was nervous. He pulled on the dark-green, mock-turtleneck, which was tucked into a pair of black jeans, then knocked a second time.

"Come in!" Buffy yelled from behind the closed door.

He opened the door and entered the room. Buffy was pulling on a pair of thick-heeled boots while trying to slide a patterned vest over her shoulders and reach for a necklace on the night stand. All at the same time. He tilted his head to one side and watched until she straightened and gave him a goofy grin. "What's up?"

Spike held out his hand, showing her the comb and hair tie. "You can pull back your own hair, you know," Buffy told him, patting the bed.

‘I like when you do it,' he signed after handing her the items. ‘And I can't see in the mirror to be sure I look good.'

"You'd look good with a bag tied around your head," she replied. "And that had to be the dumbest thing I've said in awhile."

‘Yes,' he agreed. ‘But you are blond...'

"Very funny," she said, thwaping his head with the comb. "Rule time. Number one, don't go anywhere alone."

‘Even the little boy's room?'

"You're a vampire, you don't use the john," Buffy replied. "Now, be serious, or we aren't going anywhere. Rule number two, you do what I say without question. If I'm not there, Willow is in charge, then Xander. Hopefully, nothing will happen, but this is Sunnydale, so I'm not expecting a miracle."

‘You're taking the fun out of going out,' Spike signed.

"Tough," she said. She pulled his long hair back and fixed the tie at the nape of his neck. "It's either my way, or I invite Angel to stay overnight and we watch wrestling on pay-per-view."

Spike pretended to choke himself, falling backwards so he was half on her lap, half on her bed. She rolled her eyes. "Come on, Rapunzel. Let's go."

 

*****

 

Cornerstone's was packed, as usual. A deejay was playing rather than a band, and the mixture of adults were dancing or drinking to the good music. Willow, Xander and Cordelia were sitting at the group's normal table, chatting amicably, when Buffy, Spike and Angel arrived.

"Hey gang," Buffy greeted, taking a seat. She shed her coat, as did Angel, and tossed it on the pile behind her, then indicated for Spike to do the same. "Anything interesting happening?"

"Ethan was here a little while ago," Willow said with a mischievous grin. "He was hitting on Amy."

"Let me guess, he had a sudden desire for cheese," Buffy said. Willow nodded.

"I'm going to get a drink. Anyone?" Angel offered.

"I'll have another Mud Slide," Willow replied. "Thanks, Angel."

"Can I get a Coke?" Buffy said. Angel nodded, and she turned to Spike. "Do you want anything?"

‘Bloody Mary?' Spike spelled out, giving her a smile.

"You're terrible," she replied. "He'll have a Coke, too."

‘With rum,' he added.

"With rum," Buffy translated. Angel left to get the drinks after shooting a glare at Spike.

"I take it Angel didn't help," Willow said to Spike.

‘You think?' Spike replied. Buffy smacked him. ‘What?'

‘Be nice, or we go home,' she signed, glaring at the blond vampire.

‘I am being nice,' he said.

‘Be nicer,' she said, then turned to see her three friends watching them. "Sorry. Spike says that Angel told him what he had to do, but it's hard."

‘I did not say that,' Spike signed.

Buffy grabbed his hand and squeezed it punishingly. "But he'll get it sooner or later."

Spike kicked her under the table. She turned looked at him in shock, and he yanked his hand away. ‘Don't do that! I'm not a baby!' he signed rapidly, his hands moving sharply in exclamation.

"Then stop...," Buffy started to say, but he stood abruptly. "Where are you going? You know the rules."

‘Screw your rules,' Spike replied. ‘I'm two hundred years old. I can take care of myself.'

"Keep it up, and we're going home," she hissed at him, her eyes darting to her friends, who were staring at them with great interest.

‘No,' he stated, then walked around to the other side of the table to Willow. He gestured to her, then out to the dance floor.

"Uh, sure," Willow said, sliding off her chair. She arched her brow in question at Buffy, then Spike pulled her out onto the dance floor.

"Ooh, I'm going to strangle that vampire," Buffy growled.

"I don't think it would do any good, Buff," Xander commented. "Seeing as he doesn't breathe."

"Xander, shut up," Buffy told him. Angel came back with the drinks and, as soon as he set the Coke down in front of her, she grabbed the other one out of his hand and downed it in four large swallows.

"Um, Buffy," Angel said. "That had the rum in it."

"No shit, Sherlock," Buffy scowled at him, then turned to watch Willow and Spike dancing together.

"I take it I missed something," Angel said, looking at Cordelia and Xander.

"Lover's spat," Xander informed him.

"We are not lovers," Buffy hissed at Xander. "Spike's acting like a jerk."

"You expected him to act differently?" Angel asked.

"Don't start with me, Angel," Buffy warned, then stood. "Watch Spike, I'll be back."

She turned and pushed her way through the crowd away from the table and the dance floor. Once she got to the ladies room, she went inside and up to the mirror. She took several calming breaths and tried to figure out what was pissing her off more -- Spike's attitude...or the fact that he was dancing with Willow.

"Cut him some slack, Buffy," she told her reflection. "He's way, way past the age of adulthood, and he's been treated like a dog for years. Let the guy have some fun and stop talking to yourself in the mirror."

She rolled her eyes at her actions, checked her hair and makeup, then went to rejoin her friends. She was glad that she learned to somewhat hold her liquor. A single glass wouldn't do anything to her, but any more and she'd be useless, and that was a bad thing when one was the Slayer.

At the last minute, Buffy by-passed her friends and went over to Spike and Willow. She tapped the redhead on the shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?"

Willow returned the smile Buffy gave her as she stepped away, then the hacker left the dance floor. Buffy looked at Spike, who was standing with his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He had a hurt look in his eyes and was clenching his teeth.

"I'm sorry," she began. "I was treating you like a baby and you're not. So I'm sorry."

After a moment, Spike nodded and signed, ‘I know you want to protect me, and that you care, but...'

"But I don't have to coddle you to do that," she finished. "I know. My bad. Just be careful, ok? I kinda like having you around."

‘I like having me around, too,' he replied. Buffy giggled. ‘Dance?'

"I'd love to," she said.

Spike took one of her hands in his, then slid his other hand around her waist to her lower back. He began moving in a simple step from times past, relaxing for the first time since they'd left the house. He wouldn't admit it to her, but the nervousness he'd felt earlier had grown the further away they got from the house. His anger at her was more displaced fear than actual ire.

With her heels, Buffy was only an inch or two shorter than him, so when he pulled her closer as the music changed to a slower beat, they were almost literally cheek-to-cheek. She had a small, content smile on her face; a face he looked into every day and had memorized every nuance of each expression she made.

He loved to watch her, whether she was working or making dinner, training or sitting with him in front of the television. He loved it when a little frown would appear between her brows when she was puzzled over something, or the way she'd bite her lower lip as she paid attention when he explained what the History Channel got wrong. He loved it when she'd come back from her first patrol, flop down on the couch next to him, and wiggle her feet in his face, expecting him to massage them. He loved when she stood in front of the open refrigerator for what seemed like hours, staring into it as if it held the answers to the universe. He loved it when she'd scream bloody murder when she saw a spider no bigger than a pea.

He loved her.

The realization struck Spike like lightning, and his head jerked back slightly. He met Buffy's questioning look with wide eyes and swore he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He loved her. He loved Buffy.

"What is it?" she asked.

Spike shook his head, silently telling her that nothing was wrong. Then he did something he hadn't done in over six years.

He smiled.

It wasn't much, just the corners of his mouth turning up, but the effect was as if he'd found the cure to the common cold. Buffy's eyes grew huge and she stammered, "Spike, you-you're smiling." Then a large smile crossed her own face and she squealed in delight, taking her hand out of his in order to throw her arms around him. "You're smiling!"

If anything, his smile grew, as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly to him. They were causing a small spectacle on the dance floor, but he didn't care. All he cared about was how good she felt in his arms.

 

*****

 

"Thanks for the ride, Wills. G'night," Buffy said, before closing the passenger door. She waved at her best friend as the jeep drove away, then turned to Spike. "Well, smiley-face, I don't know about you, but I had fun."

‘Me, too,' Spike signed, as she punched in the keycode.

The gate opened and they walked up to the front door in companionable silence, then Buffy repeated the action on the front door. Neither of them noticed the dark sedan that slowly drove past the house as they went inside.

Spike shed his coat and tossed it on a chair as he went over to the stereo in the living room and turned it on. Buffy gave him a curious look as she removed her own coat, but grinned when he held out his hand in an invitation to dance again.

It must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love  
Oh this must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love

She giggled when he twirled her under his arm, then pulled her back against him. That small smile was still on his face, and she wondered what could have put it there. She wasn't going to ask, however, instead she was just going to enjoy the fact that he was happy.

It must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love  
Oh this must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love

He picked her up slightly, so she was barely on her toes, then launched into a fast step that didn't fit with the music what-so-ever. The twinkle in his eyes indicated that he was laughing inside and her laughter-filled squeal of his name, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, only seemed to egg him on further.

Happiness is something  
I never thought I'd feel again,  
But now I know  
It's you that I've been looking for

He spun her in a quick circle, then stopped abruptly. He gently lowered her down to her feet, and began to slowly sway to the music. With one hand, he pulled her arm from his shoulder, then captured her hand so they were in the classic dance position once again.

And day by day  
More and more  
I know what you think,  
You've heard it before

Spike's eyes turned a deeper shade of blue as he met her gaze, and Buffy felt her breath catch. He moved the hand holding hers until her palm was pressed against his heart. He then released her hand to bring his up and brush her cheek with his fingers.

Don't tell me I know  
But this feeling inside my heart,  
You know I'm never letting go  
'Cos I think that...

Those cool fingertips ran down to her lips, outlining them lightly, as he stared intently into her eyes. Her heart was pounding wildly in her chest as his head lowered, his hand sliding around to cup the back of her head. Her eyes fell shut at the same time his lips met hers, and her fingers curled around the front of his shirt in an unconscious reaction.

It must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love  
Oh this must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love

Tender, gentle, questioning, exploring. His lips moved over hers with sensual grace, causing her whole body to tremble. She opened her mouth under his seeking caress, and he coaxed her tongue into a new dance altogether.

Words can only say so much  
It's hard to express  
The things you do to me  
You're everything I could ever dreamed you'd be

When they finally broke apart, Spike brushed his thumb against her lower lip, then stepped away from her. ‘Goodnight, Buffy,' he signed, before leaving her standing, stunned, in the living room.

It must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love  
Oh this must be love, I'm feeling  
This must be love

Buffy slowly raised her fingers and put them to her lips. They still tingled from his kiss.

 

 

Part Thirteen

 

Buffy sat on the basement stairs, silently watching Spike as he worked out. He was shirtless and bathed in a sheen of perspiration, as he focused intently on what he was doing. It had been awhile since she'd seen a vampire for longer than her usual stake and move on, and she'd forgotten that the water in the blood they drank to stay alive caused them to sweat.

His hair was tied at the nape of his neck, then fell in a single braid that ended mid-waist. When he swung around to back-fist the practice dummy, it flew out behind him, reminding her of the Japanese Anime movies she used to watch. He followed the move up with a left cross, then blocked as if his opponent were attacking.

She noticed a squeeze bottle, with his name crudely written on it, sitting on a stool near the stereo. She'd given it to him to fill with blood for during his workouts, and she remembered when he asked her for a permanent marker and to write his name on a piece of paper. She'd done so, then she watched from the kitchen doorway as he gripped the marker in his left hand like a stake and slowly copied each letter from the paper onto the side of the bottle. It had been both heartwarming to watch and to realize the thoughtfulness behind his action. It would not have been pleasant for her to grab the wrong bottle and end up with a mouthful of blood.

Spike was getting better, stronger, and more sure of himself. She watched his leg lash out in a hard side-kick, followed by a quick back-kick, then a ‘stake' to the heart. Soon, he'd be able to defend himself against fledglings without problem, perhaps multiple ones if he was angered enough. She grinned when he flicked the practice dummy off, his own version of banter, then let loose with a flurry of punches to its face and torso.

Buffy was impressed with one move he made, and she mentally jotted it down to perhaps use herself. He went to back-fist the dummy with his right fist, then pulled it at the last moment to ‘stake' the dummy underhanded with his left. In a normal fight, the opponent would have flinched his head back, and would automatically bring his arms up to block, leaving his heart unprotected for a killing strike.

"Very impressive," Buffy called out, and she giggled when his head whipped around in surprise. "Up to going against a livelier opponent?"

‘Are you up to having your cute butt kicked?' Spike signed back, after setting the stake down.

She stood and descended the rest of the stairs. "I don't think it's my butt you should be worried about. And did you just call it cute?"

‘Maybe,' he answered. ‘If I did, what are you going to do about it?'

"Kick your cute ass," she replied with a wink. The squared off with each other in the open area of the basement, both dropping into similar fighting stances. "Ready?" He nodded. "Then let's do it."

She made the first move, a high kick towards his face, which he ducked under, then darted closer for a quick jab to her stomach. Buffy blocked his move, and soon they were sparring in earnest, the Slayer not pulling back as much as she normally did. She wanted him to have the practice against a fighting opponent, rather than flattening him within a few minutes.

However, all fights must come to an end, and ten minutes later, she swept his legs out from under him and pounced. Straddling his waist, she brought an imaginary stake to his heart. "Give?"

Spike's hands moved up to grip her hips as he nodded, pushing her lightly off of him. She frowned, wondering what he was doing, then a slow flush spread across her features as realization hit her. "Um, is that a stake in your pocket?" she asked in a breathy voice. "Or are you just happy to see me?"

The look he gave her was part exasperation, part pure embarrassment. He squeezed her hips, indicating he wanted her to move, but she shook her head. Putting both hands on either side of him, she instead leaned forward until she was almost nose-to-nose with him. "You kissed me last night," she whispered. "Now it's my turn to kiss you."

Surprised blue eyes met hazel before Buffy angled her head and initiated their second kiss. She felt his hands tighten on her hips as she brushed her tongue over his bottom lip. His mouth opened under her asking and the kiss deepened, sending her heart pounding madly in her chest. Her breasts were pressed against his bare chest, the material of her sports bra offering no protection against the hardening of her nipples.

Spike turned them suddenly, and she was on her back with him pressed intimately between her legs. Their tongues wove erotically together, sending tendrils of electricity down to her core. Her hands encircled his back, her fingers running down his sweaty skin, as her pulse raced under hers. He shifted his weight to one arm, causing him to rub up against her womanhood with his arousal, thin layers of cotton the only thing separating them.

He lifted his free hand and ran it lightly up and down her bare side, his thumb brushing along the bottom of her sports bra under her breast with each up-stroke. Unconsciously, she arched towards him, seeking his touch, to which he finally complied. As he gently palmed her, she inhaled sharply, causing her breast to fill his hand, the hard peak of her nipple stabbing his palm. He slowly massaged it, making her body tingle and her muscles clench between her thighs.

Then he abruptly stopped, rolling off of her to lay on the floor, his eyes closed and his hands clenched into fists. Confused, Buffy sat up and looked down at him. "Spike?"

‘I'm sorry,' Spike signed, not opening his eyes.

"Sorry? Why should you be sorry?" she asked, completely lost and equally as aroused.

‘Don't want to...,' he paused. Then he admitted, ‘Scared.'

"You're scared?" Buffy said, reaching out to lay a hand on his chest. "There's no reason to be afraid. I want this, I want you. Unless you don't want me..."

Spike opened his eyes at the same time he moved her hand to his erection. ‘Does this feel like I don't?'

She grinned. "That could be a stake. Eep!" She suddenly found herself on her back again, a teasing and extremely aroused vampire looming over her on his knees.

‘You want to find out?' he asked, his lips curled up in a small smile.

Buffy sat up far enough to wrap her arms around him, then pull him back down to the floor with her. "Oh, I definitely want to find out."

 

*****

 

Spike ran his hand lightly up and down Buffy's arm, his eyes not focusing on anything in the darkened bedroom, as his thoughts turned introspective. They had made love several times, starting in the basement and ending up in his bed, where the tiny blond was curled against him, asleep.

Never in a million years did he think that he'd have sex with a Slayer, let alone fall in love with one. But here he was, lying naked in bed with Buffy, and loving every second of it. When he told her he was scared earlier, it was the truth. He was afraid that he'd be inadequate, that he had forgotten how to make love to someone along with everything else he no longer remembered how to do. He was afraid to take that step, to move their relationship past friendship, to move from that safety to the unknown.

He placed a soft kiss on her brow, wondering what her feelings were. He knew she cared about him, trusted him, shared things with him no one else knew. He also knew she reacted enthusiastically to his touch, gasping and moaning and calling his name in equal abandon as he pleasured her. But, when she awoke, would she regret what happened? Or would she turn to him and profess her love? He highly doubted the second would occur, and was scared that it would be the first.

He still marveled at the fact that he was having all these thoughts and feelings. For so long he'd been violent and fearless, caring for no one but Drusilla and himself. She'd been as strong and vicious as he had been, until the mob in Prague ambushed her and almost killed her. Then he learned what fear was, but it had been mixed with rage and ended in the blood and death of the townspeople who'd hurt her.

When he had returned to Sunnydale after Drusilla had told him off, he'd been depressed and jealous, the fear that she'd really leave him not too prevalent in his mind. He knew, deep down, that she wanted her equal back and it took that trip -- and a spot of violence - to bring that knowledge to the surface. Then he'd gone back to Brazil and showed her that he was every bit the man and demon he'd always been.

For two years, they caused the streets of the countries they visited to bleed. And then suddenly, Drusilla was gone, and his world had disappeared. He literally became nothing without her, everything he'd ever felt vanishing behind a blank wall. He'd become a plaything for other vampires, used and abused for whatever they pleased. He didn't care, didn't react, didn't feel anything that happened to him, and eventually he'd forgotten how to do anything but follow the commands that were programed into his brain by simple repetition and action.

Then one day the abuse stopped, and caring and comfort took its place. The melodic voice of the Slayer had drifted through his silent mind, tugging on him, urging him to break through the wall of nothing. But it wasn't until she held the perfect figurine of Drusilla directly in front of his eyes -- eyes which saw everything but reacted to nothing - that he was brought out of the blankness and finally grieved.

As the months slowly passed, there was no rage, no violence, no bloodlust as his feelings returned one by one. There was only caring and grief, fear and happiness, plus a smidgen of jealousy when his sire had been around. And now there was love. Love for the woman he held in his arms.

Spike moved until Buffy was on her back, with him laying on his side, tracing her face with his fingertips. Her eyes fluttered open, then she smiled shyly at him as he brushed them over her lips. Leaning forward, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, intent on showing her his love through his actions since he could speak no words.

His hand danced down beneath the sheet, caressing her soft skin. He captured a taut nipple and rolled it between his finger and thumb, causing her to moan in pleasure into his mouth. One of her hands came up to weave into his still-braided hair, holding his head to hers as the kiss deepened and intensified.

His hand left her breast to run further down her body to the nest of dark curls. His fingers dipped into her heat, pushing gently in and out of her as his thumb circled her hard nubbin, teasing her. When her breathing became rapid and he could hear the pounding of her heart, he moved over her, parting her thighs and settling between them. He grasped his hard shaft and brushed it over her moist center, causing her to shudder, all the while never breaking away from her lips.

He entered her slowly, moving in and out of her core with small thrusts until he was fully sheathed in her hot, silken body. Then he allowed his weight to rest on both his forearms, covering her fully with his body, and he began to love her.

Slowly, gently, reverently, he brought her to climax, her mouth tearing away from his to gasp his name. He followed soon after, mouthing her name and his words of love with a breath of air near her ear.

Raising his head after the tremors stopped, he met her eyes and saw wonder and joy in them. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a single tear of happiness trailing down his face until it mingled with the kiss.

Then the phone rang.

 

*****

Part Fourteen

 

"Maybe if we ignore it, it will stop," Buffy suggested, but the phone kept ringing. Spike shook his head in defeat, placed a quick kiss on her mouth, then moved off of her. She climbed out of bed and wandered naked out of the bedroom and across the hall to the phone. Glancing at the clock, she noted it was already past eight p.m., so when she answered the phone she was able to growl, "This had better be good."

"Buffy?" Xander said on the other end of the line. "Roll call."

"Fuck," Buffy swore. "Transport?"

"Giles will be there in a few minutes," he answered.

"Gear?" she asked, trying to ignore the wetness slowly running down her inner thighs.

"None," he replied. "Standard phase one and two."

Buffy sighed. "Got it, see you in a few."

"Oh, and Buffy? Be sure to get dressed before Giles arrives," Xander said knowingly. "He still hasn't gotten over you having sex with Angel."

Buffy's reply was to hang up on him. She turned when she heard someone behind her, and saw Spike standing in the doorway, naked and holding the cat in his arms. He gestured to the phone, and she told him, "Xander. Get dressed, Giles will be here any second. I need to hop in the shower."

Spike cocked his head in question. "Big bad thing," she explained, moving past him towards her room. "It won't take long to kill, because I'm ticked at being interrupted."

He tapped on her shoulder, then pointed to himself. "No, you stay home. If we moved to phase three, the only person who'll be at HQ will be Ethan, and he's about as helpful as flypaper. I know you're getting better at defending yourself, but I'd rather not chance it," she said. "Now, go get dressed. I don't mind your nakedness, but Giles would probably have a heart attack."

He nodded and left her alone, taking Spike with him. She quickly showered and dressed in loose research cum fighting clothes. Pulling her hair up in a haphazard pony-tail, she made her way to the living room where she knew she'd find Giles waiting for her.

"Ready?" Giles asked, rising from his seat. Spike, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, rose as well. The cat that had been on his lap jumped to the floor and scampered over to his mistress.

"I'm good to go," Buffy replied, bending to pet Spike. She straightened and met the other Spike's eyes. "I'll see you later, ok?"

Spike nodded. ‘Be careful,' he signed.

"I will," she said. Giles moved past her to the front door and the Slayer took that opportunity to dash into the living room and plant a quick, hard kiss on Spike's lips. "I'll miss you."

She turned and, just as quickly, left the room. He heard the front door open and close, then the sound of a car driving away. With a silent sigh, he wandered into the kitchen and let Spike out the back door before he opened the refrigerator and took out his dinner. It was going to be a long night.

 

*****

 

It was going to be a long night. Buffy pretended to shoot herself as Giles droned on and on about the sighting of a new creature. Ethan had been the one to see it on his way back from a date, and, after they went through the usual banter about what woman would want to date Giles' old friend, he gave them a detailed description.

Phase one had been completed with relative ease, considering Ethan was an artist. The man had quickly sketched what it looked like, then retreated to the second floor of the bookstore to "recover from his trauma," with a new bottle of scotch. Phase two required the group to research the creature, which was what they were currently doing. Phase three, when they reached it, would be to eliminate the creature and phase four would be the mountain of paperwork that Willow required.

When Giles turned his back on those seated at the table, Cordelia leaned over and whispered to Buffy, "Was he any good?"

Buffy blushed. "Cordy!" she hissed.

"That would be a yes," the brunette said, grinning. "Xander said you answered the phone like he does when we're interrupted, but I wasn't sure you'd done it until just now."

"Did he use sign language?" Xander asked, keeping his voice low. He began gesturing with his hands as he provided sound effects. "Oh baby, yes, oooh."

Buffy kicked him under the table, her face the same shade as the can of Coke in front of her. "Shut up."

"So, are you two a thing?" Willow joined in the hushed conversation, as Giles began to read from the book in his hand. "I don't think that would be good. Remember what happened with Angel."

"He's nothing like Angel, and can we not talk about this now?" Buffy replied.

"But if we don't do it now, we'll actually have to listen to Giles," Xander said.

"Did everyone understand?" Giles asked, turning to look at them.

"Yes, Giles," they chimed together, giving him innocent smiles.

"Then everyone get to work," Giles said. "And Buffy, I don't need to tell you to be careful with Spike, do I?" Buffy thumped her head on the table as her friends laughed. They hadn't gotten away with a conversation while Giles lectured for years. But that didn't stop them from trying.

 

*****

 

Spike heard loud crying coming from outside the back door and it took him a moment to recognize the sound as the cat. Buffy had been gone for an hour and he'd used the time to eat, take a shower and changed the sheets. He was sitting in the kitchen, reading the new issue of Vanity Fair that had come earlier in the mail, when the noise started.

Marking his place with a subscription card, he stood and opened the back door. The cat was standing at the end of the small porch, crying loudly due to the wire that was tangled around him. Leaving the door open behind him, he went to retrieve Spike and was halfway back to the house when they struck.

Three vampires, the size of linebackers, surrounded him. One snatched the cat from his arms and tossed him in through the open door. The other two moved into position to take the blond.

Instantly, Spike lashed out with his fist, striking the vampire in front of him in the face. He spun and kicked one of the two behind him, causing him to stagger back. The third dropped into a fighting stance as Spike turned once again and attacked the vampire blocking the door. He knew he had to get inside.

Number two recovered from Spike's kick and circled around to join the first one in front of the door. Spike whirled and ran over to the edge of the small porch, hopping over the ledge to land in the grass below. He heard footsteps pounding behind him as he flew around the house, trying to reach the front door far enough ahead of his opponents to use the keypad.

Ten feet from the door, he was tackled by the vampire he'd kicked. Spike skid across the pavement, scraping his hands and forearms, barely avoiding smashing his face. He threw his head back, clocking the vampire atop him on the jaw, then bucked him off. He scrambled up and forward at the same time towards the stairs, kicking back with his foot at the vampire on the ground behind him, who was trying to trip him up.

Spike got to the stop of the stairs and froze when he saw the third vampire standing in a relaxed fighting stance in front of the door. Then something bashed him on the back of the head, and everything went dark.

 

*****

 

Buffy quietly let herself into the house at three, tired and cranky from too much research. Dropping her coat on the foyer table, she made her way towards the hall and stopped when she sensed something wrong. She slowly turned in a circle, then made her way to the kitchen, where the light was blazing brightly.

Her eyes widened in horror when she saw the back door open and saw her cat in the middle of the floor, not moving, wire wrapped around his legs. Fear coursing through her body, she turned and tore down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

"Spike!" she yelled, moving from room to room in search of the vampire. But her gut was telling her she wasn't going to find him. "SPIKE!"

Racing for the phone, she snatched the receiver and hit speed dial. "Answer, answer, answer," she chanted, dropping down next to the cat and petting him gently.

"‘Lo?" Willow said when she answered the phone, slightly out of breath.

"Willow, Spike's missing! I got home and I felt something wrong and the back door was open and Spike's on the floor all tangled in wire and Spike's not here," Buffy rushed out, her voice choked with panic.

"Woah, Buffy, slow down," Willow said calmly, falling into Watcher-mode. "Spike, the vampire is missing?"

"Yes, he's gone," she replied. "He's gone, Willow."

"Do you think someone took him?" Willow continued in an even tone.

"Yes," Buffy answered, letting her years of training take over so she could assess the situation. "The back door is open. My cat is effectively disabled. Spike is nowhere in the house."

"Ok, don't touch anything," Willow instructed. "I'll be over in five minutes."

Buffy stood and hung up the phone, then wrapped her arms around herself. "Oh god, Spike. Please be ok," she whispered.

 

*****

 

Spike looked around the room he was in, searching for a weapon. He'd awoken a few minutes before to find himself naked and locked in a bedroom. He walked over to the closet and opened the door. With one of his old, unique smiles, he yanked the wooden bar out, the hangers clattering to the floor. He quickly broke it down into small stakes and stashed them around the room, keeping two with him.

He heard the lock turning in the door, and he moved behind it, prepared to strike. The first vampire entered the room and was dust before he even realized Spike was awake. The second, however, and the others that followed, did not hesitate in the doorway. Four of them rushed into the room and a fifth stayed in the hallway, holding a medical bag and wearing a white lab coat.

Spike didn't wait to attack. He launched himself at the closest vampire, landing a hard kick to his gut before spinning and placing a second one across his jaw. He ducked as one came up behind him and tried to grab him, sliding under his raised arms to slam the stake into his back. Before the dust fell, he punched a third several times in the face, then staggered when the first vampire he attacked kicked him in the back of the leg, causing him to drop one of the stakes.

Turning, he faked a back-fist at the vampire with his right, then jammed the stake underhanded into his opponent's heart with his left. The fourth vampire, who had yet to get involved, sent a drop kick at Spike's arm, making the stake fall to the floor. Spike sprang forward away from the two vampires towards where he hid another weapon, but was kicked again from behind, this time in the lower back.

The two remaining vampires descended upon him like wolves, kicking and punching him as he struggled to retaliate. His hand closed around a stake and he slammed it into one of the two just as three more vampires entered the room. The last original one latched onto Spike's wrist and yanked it up sharply behind his back. He kicked backwards with his heel, connecting solidly with the vampire's leg, but one of the new vampires had come around and grabbed Spike's other arm.

The stake in his hand fell uselessly to the floor as he was forcefully dragged over to a metal table and draped across it. He fought against his captors as two held down each arm, one held down his legs and the fourth held his head in a vice grip over the edge of the table. He heard footsteps, then saw shiny shoes and the tails of the white lab coat come into view next to the vampire holding his head.

His braided hair was pulled up and clipped with something off of his neck. He heard the distinctive rasp of a zipper, then felt the cool metal of a blade pressed against the back of his neck. "Hold him steady," a German voice rasped. "One mistake and his spinal cord could be pierced, then he will be of no use to Santiago."

Spike squeezed his eyes shut when the first cut was made, his face morphing to that of his demon. By the time the second was made, tears were streaming down his face and dropping to the floor. Then a metal ring was inserted under his skin and around the vertebra in his neck.

He screamed.

 

 

Part Fifteen

 

Huge, dark circles ringed Buffy's eyes as she stared out the window of the car into the rainy day. Her thinning form was huddled in oversized clothes, her hair in an unkempt disarray. She was on her way back to the bookstore with Giles, her Watcher having come to pick her up after yet another fruitless night of searching.

Spike had been missing for five and a half weeks. Thirty-nine days of agonizing slowness and grief on Buffy's part. The small group of friends worked non-stop for the first week looking for Spike, Xander and Cordelia effectively eliminating the demon on their own. Giles and Willow alternated working in the bookstore during the day, while Xander utilized his library at the high school to conduct a search via the computer.

Angel had come up the moment Willow called, and he and Cordelia had gone together to question Willie, then search the sewers for Spike. They had easily fallen back into their old pattern of working together, allowing no inch of tunnel system to go without scrutiny. Buffy had beat up every vampire she could find, grilling him or her for information, but not one seemed to know about Spike. Either that, or they weren't speaking. The tracker on Jefe had proved useless, as well, for the Eunuch vampire had skipped town a few months after he was freed.

Eventually, Angel had to return to LA, Cordelia and Xander had other work to do, and Oz came home on one of his infrequent breaks, leaving Giles to have to run the bookstore. Buffy was the only one left to continue the search for Spike, at the cost of her own business, but that didn't matter to her. All that mattered was finding the blond vampire who had come into her life unexpectedly and had silently stolen her heart.

"I s-suppose it would do me no good to-to tell you to move on," Giles said quietly, steering his car through the rain.

"No," Buffy answered shortly, not moving her eyes from the window. "He's out there, I know it."

"But Buffy, it has been over five weeks. Certainly by now Spike is long gone, whether taken by other vampires, or-or dead."

"He's not dead, Giles," she said. "He's too valuable. No, someone kidnaped him, and I'm not going to stop until I get him back."

The cellular phone rang in Giles' pocket, and he answered it. "Hello?"

"Giles, it's Willow. Is Buffy with you?" the redhead asked over the line.

"Yes," Giles replied.

"Put her on."

Giles handed Buffy the phone. "It's Willow, for you."

"Yeah, Will," Buffy said in a lifeless voice into the receiver.

"Buffy, you're not going to believe it!" Willow exclaimed. "Angel called. He found Spike!"

 

*****

 

Spike slowly crawled from one vampire to another, sucking on each cock until it was hard. There were seven of them this time, all Cuban, with dark hair and dark bodies, minions of the new master of Cuba. Santiago sat with that master, who had arrived the night before to attend the party that was to be held two days hence, and they chatted amicably while watching Spike and the others.

In Santiago's hand lay one end of a ten-foot chain that stretched across the rich, earth-toned room until it disappeared under Spike's long hair. That chain was soldered onto the metal ring that had been inserted through the muscles and around the vertebra in Spike's neck, the ring having been welded closed, as well.

He was once again a plaything to the vampire who held the other end of the chain. He'd been beaten and raped and forced into submission, but he never let go of the thought of escape, nor of Buffy. She was the only reason he hadn't yanked the ring out of his neck, which would cause irreparable damage from his spinal cord being ripped and all the bones broken. Each night, after he'd been chained to the wall above the small rug on which he slept, he'd work on freeing himself from his lavish prison.

Closing his eyes, Spike dropped down onto his hands and waited. He didn't have to wait long. The back of his long, loose hair was grabbed and his head forced up the same time he felt one of the Cuban minion's thick cock thrust painfully into his unlubricated anus. He opened his mouth, knowing that the sooner he started, the sooner it ended.

He lost track of the number of times he'd been fucked, from behind or in the face. Each of the seven came at least twice, some three times. He'd supposed they painted an erotic picture, seven dark-skinned men against one who was like white marble. Two of the vampires tried to fuck him at once, and he'd been spread so wide, his tender skin had torn as they thrust in and out, one from underneath him and one from behind.

Eventually, they stopped, spent from their multiple orgasms. Spike slumped over, his head bowed until it was almost touching the floor, waiting for whatever was to come next.

 

*****

 

"It's an invitation to a party," Angel explained, handing Buffy the gilt-lettered card. "Read who it's for."

"Santiago," Buffy hissed, her eyes narrowing in anger.

"I got it off a master vampire who stopped in LA on his way up here. The party is invitation only, black tie, and takes place this Saturday night here in Sunnydale," Angel told the others. The small group was sitting together at Slayer Central, everyone having gathered when the dark-haired vampire arrived.

"Does it mention anything about Spike?" Giles asked.

Angel shook his head. "No, but that doesn't mean anything."

"We have to ask why would Santiago be having a shindig if he didn't have something to share?" Oz said.

"My thoughts exactly," Angel replied.

"So do we attack pre-party?" Xander asked. "A little search and rescue operation."

"No," Buffy said, surprising everyone.

"Why not?" Cordelia was first to ask. "You've been working non-stop in searching for Spike, and you look positively skanky because of it."

"I have to agree with Cordy," Willow said. "But not about the skanky part. Although you don't look your best. Not that you could look better..."

"What she means is, why?" Xander interrupted the redhead.

"Think about it," Buffy said, setting the invitation down in the center of the table. "This is an invitation taken from a master vampire. When we first went after Santiago, Xander said he was renown for his parties -- ones that masters from all over the world attended. Imagine what we could do if we get them all under one roof."

"You could wipe-out a major chunk of the vampire leadership," Angel said. Everyone sat in silence, contemplating what that meant.

"But what about Spike?" Giles finally asked Buffy softly.

Buffy shrugged. "I guess he'll just be a casualty of war," she replied, then walked up the stairs and out of the bookstore. The second the door closed behind her, a sob wracked her body. She crumpled against the store wall and cried.

Angel sat down next to her a few minutes later, putting his arm around her shoulder and holding her to him. "We'll get him back, Buffy," he whispered. "I promise."

 

*****

 

"Here are the plans," Willow said the following evening, spreading out the blueprints for the sprawling ranch house located just outside of the city proper. "This room here." She circled a large room in yellow highlighter. "Is probably where the main party is going to be held."

"Entrances and exits," Oz continued, marking each with a neon pink highlighter. "Xander and I did recon. There is an overhang that runs around the house, with armed guards stationed every twenty feet. They are there all day. It looks like all vehicles come through here." He pointed to the front gate. "And they drop off the guests before going to park back here." He pointed out another spot on the blueprints.

"There was a vamp already checking invitations at this door," Xander said, drawing in a green circle where the vampire had been standing. "We saw six limos arrive in the five hours we were stationed. Two guests per invitation -- probably the invitee and his or her date. Some had suitcases, some didn't."

"It's strictly hush-hush," Cordelia continued, opening a pad of paper to look at her notes. "Willie got an order for twenty cases of wine and thirty cases of assorted liquor. Someone is suppose to pick it up tonight. There were no names given, half pre-paid in cash, the other half upon pickup. He has heard nothing about the party, but he assumes, because of the order, there's something big going down."

"No one knows about it around town, either," Angel added. "In fact, the vampires I ran into all think Santiago is dead. My guess is his minions go to the neighboring towns to hunt."

"We have all the weapons we need for a major offensive," Giles said. "The clips have been filled, the specialty bombs are primed and ready, stakes sharpened, and gear is in order."

"And I staked fourteen vamps," Buffy stated. "Yay me."

"Buffy, your job isn't until tomorrow," Willow told her. "And you got the hard part."

"I know," the Slayer sighed. "I just feel so useless when it comes to the planning stuff."

"That's because you are," Cordelia said. Buffy rolled her eyes and Xander chuckled.

"Do you have the dress, Cordy?" Willow asked, getting back on track.

"I'll drop it off tomorrow for armament," Cordelia replied. "But I'll need at least three hours to get Buffy dressed. It's going to take a miracle to hide those bags under her eyes."

"Um, right here," Buffy waved her hand.

"Angel, your tux is at our house from the grand opening," Cordelia told the vampire. "As long as you didn't turn into a porker, it should still fit you."

"Thanks, Cord," Angel replied, giving her a wry smile. "I'll pick it up tomorrow after sunset."

"I'll have communications by three," Oz said. "It'll take me ten minutes to hook you two up and do a check, thirty seconds to explain how it works."

"The limo is rented," Giles said. "Ethan shall be the driver. He will drop you off, then leave the limo in the park as close to the building as he can. We shall evac him right after."

"Anyone have anything to add?" Willow asked.

"I want quick lock-pick stuff," Buffy replied. "Just in case."

"You got it," Oz said.

"Is that it?" Willow said, looking from person to person. "Team A, eight o'clock; everyone else, I want you here by six-thirty."

 

 

Part Sixteen

 

Buffy glanced at Angel sitting next to her in the limousine and he put his hand on her bare knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. They were on their way to Santiago's ranch, dressed to the nines and armed to the hilt, to pull off one of the most daring search and rescue missions the group had ever planned for.

Due to the vast changeover in the vampire population in Sunnydale, and to Angel keeping the fact that he had his soul returned low profile over the years, the master vampire Angelus and his ‘date' were about to attend the party of parties given by Santiago.

"We're passing point zero," Angel said quietly.

"Roger," Willow's voice came over the tiny radio receivers hidden in both Buffy and Angel's ears. The microphones were sewn into both of their outfits, Angel's disguised as the backing to one of his shirt buttons, and Buffy's where the spaghetti strap of the midnight blue dress met the material of the bodice.

The dress itself had a scooped neck and a slightly flared skirt that ended mid-thigh — and hid four stakes, a stiletto, three lock picks, and a specialty magnesium wire that would burn through any standard metal. In her clutch was a .9 mm Beretta and extra clips, as well as a few extra stakes and some Holy Water, all of which was buried under makeup and hair supplies.

The whole mission, however, banked on the invitation in Angel's pocket and there being other humans present to detract from Buffy's living status.

"Team A-E, approaching point one," Ethan said into the radio clipped to his collar.

"Roger, team A-E," Willow replied.

The limo pulled up in front of Santiago's ranch at precisely 9:05 p.m. A vampire dressed in a tuxedo opened the door, and Angel stepped out, passing his invitation on to the doorman as he offered his hand to Buffy. The Slayer exited the vehicle, keeping her face impassive, if not somewhat snobby. She put her hand on Angel's arm and the two entered the ranch without problem.

"Point one clear," Ethan's voice came over the radio in Buffy's ear. "Team A-E moving to point two."

"Roger, team A-E," Willow said. "Team A-main inside the building. Team B, report."

"Team B in position," Xander said. "Transport locked on target."

As the radio conversation went on in her ear, Buffy slowly took in the interior of the ranch house. Done in earthy tones and open areas, the main foyer flowed into a large living room type area. The right wall of the living room ended about two-thirds of the way into the room, leaving an opening that led to another connecting room. French doors were open on the left wall, allowing the party to drift outside to the sunken pool and patio. A bar was set up in one corner near the open doors.

There were two sets of doors to the right, both closed and a swinging door straight ahead. Undoubtably, the door straight ahead led to the kitchen and one of the two closed doors led to the rest of the house. As she and Angel stood there, the door closest to her opened, and she saw it was a study.

"There are other humans here," Angel said quietly to her. "No one seems to be paying attention to that fact, however."

"So we're good to go," Buffy completed. Everything she or Angel said would be picked up over the microphones and transmitted to the group outside, as well as the voices of anyone they were talking with. The plan called for them to ‘act naturally,' not using radio/mission codes or transmitting information, until Buffy gave the signal. Then all hell would break loose.

"Stick close to me," Angel said. "I'm going to head for the bar and put a glass of something in your hand, so you won't have to shake anyone else's."

Slowly, they wove their way through the crowd of sharply dressed vampires, both male and female. Angel nodded a greeting every so often, but he did not pause to mingle. Once they approached the bar, he ordered two drinks, and handed one to Buffy.

But the glass slipped through her numb fingers and hit the carpeted floor, spilling its contents. "Spike," she gasped, staring across the room to the connecting room.

The blond vampire was sitting naked on a small, black-fur rug, his legs bent in what absently reminded Buffy of a cheerleader's pose. His head was down, his long, blond locks covering his face. A doubled chain ran from behind him up to a ring about five-feet from the floor on the wall. She watched as other guests paused near him, studying him like he was an exotic pet, but no one touched him.

Buffy wanted to run over and throw her arms around Spike, and she barely refrained herself from doing so. If Angel hadn't been standing by her side, a restraining arm around her shoulders, she would have, despite the foolishness of the action. She yanked her gaze from Spike's still form and forced herself to look around before taking a deep, centering breath.

"I'm ok," she told Angel, looking up at the ensouled vampire.

"You sure?" Angel asked quietly.

Buffy nodded, her initial shock turning to anger. "Let's do this," she replied, steel in her voice.

Casually, they circulated through the party guests into the connecting room. Angel, his arm still around her shoulder, steered Buffy towards the wall to the left of Spike. He suddenly pushed her up against the wall and kissed her, much to the Slayer's surprise. When he broke off, one of his hands was braced against the wall slightly above her, blocking her from the other guests' views.

"That better have been part of a plan, or I'll be really ticked," Buffy said quietly, arching her brow at him.

"Mostly plan," Angel answered with a smirk. He nodded his head slightly in Spike's direction. "See what you can make of how he's chained up."

Buffy turned her head and carefully looked under Angel's arm. The ring in the wall was set into the adobe stone. She could see small cracks running around the metal, as if someone chipped away at the stone, then replaced it. The chain itself was not attached directly to the ring. Instead, it was looped through it and ran back down to Spike, where it disappeared under his long hair. There were two guards standing against the wall to the right of him.

"Well?" Angel said quietly, bending his head again and nuzzling her neck.

"It looks like he's been trying to get the ring out of the wall," Buffy replied, putting her hands on his lapels. "The chain is probably attached to a collar around his neck by some sort of lock."

"Why wouldn't he rip the collar off?" the dark-haired vampire said, thinking aloud. "Leather ones aren't that strong."

"Maybe metal?" Buffy suggested, turning her head again to study Spike. "I bet the lock itself is behind his neck where he can't reach it. Oops, company."

"Act like you're being ravished," Angel murmured. Buffy hid her face in his chest and listened.

"I heard Santiago only allows his special guests the privilege of playing with him," one vampire said as they stopped in front of Spike.

"I was talking to Juan, one of the Cuban master's top minions," a second said. "And he said he got to fuck the statue just the other day."

"You must be mistaken," a third said.

"Ask him," the second replied. "Or, better yet, ask the Cuban master."

"Did you see what he was wearing?" the first commented. "Who does he think he is? Castro?"

"What about Marlena, the Puerto Rican master?" the second said. "That's why they coined the term ‘vamp.'"

As the trio moved off, Buffy quietly asked, "Are all vampires such gossip hounds?"

"Yes," Angel answered, straightening. He pulled her away from the wall and draped his arm around her shoulder, then started to lead her around the front of Spike. "We're worse than teenage girls."

Despite the situation, the Slayer couldn't help but giggle at the picture his statement painted. Angel's arm tightened around her shoulder, and when she looked up at him in question, he gestured in Spike's direction. Turning her head, she gasped when she met Spike's gaze.

The blond vampire's eyes were haunted and pain-filled, but also held a touch of anger. He glanced to her left suddenly, then dropped his head again so his hair hid his face, as two other guests approached.

Buffy's hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into her palms. She wanted to turn and rip the heads off the two vampires who had started talking about what they were going to do with Spike later that night. Angel's fingers tightened around her shoulder, bruising the skin, reminding her not to react.

The two vampires finally walked away and Angel's arm slid from her shoulder to her waist. "Time to move," he whispered, pulling her into step with his arm.

She let herself be led away from Spike and out the French doors onto the patio. The night air was cool and crisp, faint music was playing in the background, and bamboo torches provided the right ambiance for the party. As soon as they were on the far side of the pool, where less guests were conversing, she began speaking in a low voice.

"We're getting him out of there now," she stated.

"Buffy, you're too close to the sit-" Angel began.

"I. Said. Now." Each word was short and clipped. Fire and rage were radiating from her body, making her eyes flash with deadly intent.

Angel studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Begin sequence," he said, his voice carrying over the radio and initiating the plan that would seal the fate of every other vampire at the party.

"Team C, blockade," Willow's clipped voice echoed in Angel and Buffy's ears. "Team B, acquire targets."

Buffy and Angel re-assumed their casual positions, the dark-haired vampire's arm around her waist, and they slowly made their way back into the ranch house. Her eyes flicked around the room, noting which of the vampires were guests and which were Santiago's minions. "Five," she said loud enough for only Angel to hear.

Angel nodded, then said, "Patio."

"Roger," Willow responded to Angel's statement of escape route. "Team B, copy -- patio."

"Team B, copy," Xander said.

Buffy ran her fingers along the waist of her dress and removed the thin magnesium wire that had been hidden within the material. Because Spike was in the open, she wouldn't have time to pick any sort of lock that chained him to the wall. With the wire, only a lighter was needed.

She and Angel wove their way back over to the blond vampire. As soon as they were close enough, Buffy raised her voice slightly so Spike would hear. "Do you think Santiago will let me play with him?" she said.

Spike raised his head at the sound of her voice. Her hands flashed quickly, speaking to him in sign language. ‘Be ready.'

He nodded imperceptibly, his eyes darting to where the others guests where before raising his hands and signing back, ‘Wall ring.'

"Oh, I think he'll let you," Angel replied over the signing.

"Team C, blockade complete," Cordelia's voice came over the radio.

"Roger, team C," Willow replied. "Return and acquire position."

"Copy, team leader," Cordelia said.

"Good," Buffy said, opening the clasp on her purse. "He's just so adorable."

Angel unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket. "Like a puppy."

"Do you think he'd beg?" Buffy asked, moving away from Angel towards Spike's left.

"Why don't you find out?" Angel said, turning so his back was to Spike.

"That's a good idea," Buffy said, pulling a lighter out of her purse. "I think I'll try it right now."

"Team B, eliminate targets," Willow's order came over the radio, as Buffy and Angel sprang into action.

The Slayer practically leapt at the ring in the wall, wrapping the wire around the metal and lighting it. Angel drew his weapon, a Colt .45, and plugged the two minions who were acting as Spike's guard to the right of the blond vampire.

There was a bright white flare as the magnesium burned through the metal ring. Buffy pulled out her own .9 mm and spun, shooting vampire after vampire. Spike stood, turned and wrapped his hands around his chains, then pulled with all his strength. The ring broke, causing him to stumble back a few steps.

"Team B-G, targets eliminated," Giles' voice came over the radio.

"Move in for support, team B-G," Willow instructed.

The party exploded into chaos. The five minions of Santiago's Buffy noted earlier pulled their own weapons, firing upon the crowd, regardless of who they hit. Some guests began attacking other guests, others hurried to get out of the ranch home. Buffy dropped her spent clip to the ground and inserted a second in one fluid motion. She glanced at Spike, who had draped the chains over his shoulder, then at Angel. "Move out," she ordered over the noise.

"Team B-X, targets eliminated, patio guards clear," Xander said.

Angel shoved his way through the crowd, clearing a path. Buffy yanked a stake out of her purse and passed it to Spike. "Follow Angel. We're going out through the patio." Spike nodded and spun, staking the nearest vampire. He then followed behind his sire, with the Slayer right on his tail.

"Team C in position," Cordelia said.

"Roger, team C," Willow replied. "Team D, what's your status?"

"Team D, ready on your mark," Oz said.

Buffy slammed her fist into a vampire who got too close, then grabbed a second and threw him over her shoulder into a throng of guests. With a growl, she whipped a stake out of a hidden recess of her dress and plunged it into the back of another vampire who tried to grab Spike by the hair.

Angel's clip was empty and he resorted to physically slamming guests out of the way. The trio burst through the patio doors and out into the night, heading directly for the wall on the far side of the pool. The ensouled vampire cupped his hands together and Spike stepped into them, then vaulted over the wall.

"Team A clear," Buffy yelled, running and flipping over the wall on her own. Angel landed on the ground next to her a second later.

"Team D -- now!" Willow commanded.

Buffy grabbed Spike's hand and ran. A loud blast was heard coming from the opposite side of the ranch, and the sky lit up in an orange flames as the dynamite-packed limousine exploded. Willow's jeep flew into view, sending dirt flying through the air as it skidded to a stop. The Slayer practically tossed Spike into the back seat of the automobile, then leapt in behind him. Angel jumped into the passenger seat and Cordelia hit the gas.

"Team C clear," Cordelia said, shifting the jeep into overdrive.

"Team B, on my mark," Willow said over the radio. "Three, two, one, mark!"

Five seconds later, the ranch house went up in flames as missile after missile blew through the stone walls. Any vampire still trapped within was burned to ashes in an instant. Those that had been lucky to escape out of the house were doing so under chunks of falling timber and other debris.

"Teams B and D, pull out," Willow instructed. "All teams, rendevous at HQ."

"Copy, team leader," Xander replied.

"Copy, team leader," Cordelia said.

"Copy, team leader," Oz said.

Buffy reached under the seat in front of her and pulled out an army blanket. When she raised her eyes, she saw that Spike's head was bowed, his long hair whipping around in the breeze from the open jeep, hiding his features. With a pang in her heart, she unfolded the blanket and gently covered him with it.

 

 

Part Seventeen

 

 

Spike slid on the running pants that Buffy had provided for him, wincing as the material rubbed over a gash in his leg, caused from scraping the wall when he went over it. The chain, which he had wrapped around his neck like a scarf, jangled as he shifted. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his system during the escape had disappeared, leaving him sore and drained. He wanted nothing more than to curl up beside Buffy and sleep for weeks.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and then Buffy's voice drifted through it. "Can I come in?"

Reaching out, Spike turned the knob and opened the door for her. She stepped inside, then closed it behind her, a small, zippered pouch in her hand. "Lock-pick kit," she told him, waving it slightly. "I figured you couldn't wait to get the collar off of you."

This was the moment Spike had been dreading since he'd been rescued. He didn't want her to see what Santiago had done to him, didn't want to hear the pity in her voice or view the disgust on her face. The chain was fused to the ring in his neck, and the other end was padlocked to one of the links just out of his reach.

However, he had no choice, not unless he wanted to carry the heavy chain around with him indefinitely. He brushed his hair back over his shoulders, then unwound the metal. When he was done, he sat down on the closed toilet seat and raised his eyes to hers.

Buffy stared at him a second, a frown appearing between her brows. "Uh, I don't see a collar."

‘There isn't one,' Spike signed.

"I don't understand," Buffy replied. "I see a chain..."

Spike held up his hand, interrupting her. He then turned on the seat until his back was to her and lowered his head. Squeezing his eyes shut, he reached back and pulled his hair off of his neck. The reaction he'd expected, however, was not the one he got.

"That goddamn motherfucking ASSHOLE!" Buffy spat, throwing the lock-pick hard against the wall. "If he isn't dead, I'm going to RIP HIS FUCKING HEART OUT AND EAT IT!"

Spike turned and stared at her, stunned by her outburst. Her eyes were flashing and her face was flushed with anger. He was very glad at that moment that he was on her good list, or he'd be terrified for his unlife. As it was, he couldn't help but shrink slightly away from her as she spun and punched the wall, leaving a large hole in the plaster.

"No, then he'd die too quickly. I'm going to cut him, then roll him in salt and lemon juice," Buffy growled, pacing back and forth in the small area. "Better yet, Chinese water-torture. Only I'll use holy water until a hole is burned through his brain. How does that sound?"

She stopped pacing and turned to him, then immediately looked remorseful. "I'm sorry," she said, dropping to her knees in front of him. "I didn't even ask if you were ok."

‘I'm fine,' he signed. ‘Tired, but fine.'

"Are you sure?"

Spike nodded. ‘I missed you,' he signed, then reached out and brushed his hand over her cheek.

"I missed you, too," she replied, tears filing her eyes. "I didn't think I was ever going to find you. If it wasn't for Angel..."

She was cut off when he bent and covered her lips with his. His hand went back around her head, holding her to him as their mouths open and tongues twined together. Anger, fear, longing and love went into the kiss. Emotions that had been held in check by both of them came tumbling out, and the salt from their tears mixed in as their passion increased.

It wasn't until the chain clanged against the side of the porcelain toilet as Spike shifted that they broke apart. Buffy sniffed and wiped her wet cheeks, then reached out and wiped his tear tracks with the pad of her thumb. "I'm sorry that fuck-head hurt you," she told him.

‘What bad language,' he signed, then rubbed one forefinger over the other in the universal ‘shame on you' sign.

Buffy chuckled. "I know. My mouth should be washed out with soap."

A small smile appeared on his face and his eyes were dancing with mischief. ‘I can think of something better to wash your mouth out with.'

"Spike!" she blushed, lightly swatting him on the arm. He gave her an innocent shrug, and the chain jangled. Frowning, she fingered the metal, serious once more. "I'm not going to be able to get this off myself." She met his eyes. "The others are going to see..."

‘I know,' he interrupted.

"Well, I guess the sooner we get out there, the sooner we get the chain off you and see what we can do with the ring," Buffy said, standing. "Are you ready? Or do you need a few more minutes?"

‘I'm ready,' Spike answered.

"Ok then," she said. She turned and stepped towards the door as he stood up behind her. She paused with her hand on the knob, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, telling herself that he was safe, that he was ok.

"Bhah-fee?"

Buffy's eyes widened and she slowly turned around to stare at Spike. "Did you just say my name?" she breathed in amazement.

Spike nodded, his lips curling up in a smile.

She let out a screech of joy and threw her arms around him, mindful of the chain. "You speaked!" she exclaimed, holding him tightly. He spun her around in a small circle and she laughed delightedly. Then she started to ramble, "When did you start? Is it still hard? How much can you say? Why didn't you say anything sooner? God, this is so great!"

Spike silently chuckled and set Buffy back on her feet. He held up his hand, halting her barrage of excited questioning and bubbly enthusiasm. ‘I have something to tell you,' he signed.

"What?" Buffy asked, a huge, happy smile on her face.

He prompted her to sit down on the edge of the sink, then moved between her legs, his hands on her hips. Looking her right in the eyes, he took a purposeful breath and said, "Lhaf vue."

The words might have uttered quietly and were not too clear, but their meaning was shouted in Buffy's mind and in her heart. "I love you, too, Spike," she replied, tears once again filling her eyes.

A large, genuine, full-blown smile crossed Spike's face, then he bent his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. Her fingers ran up his chest, then dug into his shoulders as their passion ignited anew. When the blond vampire finally broke away, Buffy was panting heavily, her heart pounding a wild staccato.

‘I want you,' Spike signed after stepping away from her slightly.

Her gaze darted down to the bulge in his pants. "Obviously," she replied wryly. He rolled his eyes and smacked her on the knee. "Sorry. My bad."

‘You are,' he agreed.

"So, why aren't we having sex in the bathroom?" she asked.

‘I want the chain off first,' Spike told her.

"Oh god, Spike, I'm sorry," Buffy said, mortified at her thoughtlessness. "Of course you want that. I can't believe that I..."

‘Got distracted?' he signed with a small grin and a devilish twinkle in his blue eyes. ‘I'm good.'

"You wish," she replied with a snort.

‘That's not what you said the other day...'

Buffy interrupted him by grabbing his face and hauling him to her for another kiss. She didn't know what he'd been through, or about the nightmares to come, but she knew one fact for certain.

Things were going to be ok.

 

 

Epilogue

 

"Target sighted," Buffy said, looking down the scope of her rifle. "Heading north towards intercept point. Will reach it in T-minus ten."

"Roger, team four," Willow replied over the radio. "Team one, prepare to intercept."

There was no reply.

Buffy watched through her scope as the dark-haired vampire the team was tracking reached the intercept point. They had been searching for this particular target for months, and now that he was found, they wanted to take no chance in losing him. She saw a figure dart out from the shadows of a nearby building and grinned evilly. "Payback."

She watched as the camouflaged figure spun and kicked the vampire in the jaw, followed by a hard cross to the same spot. His fist shot out again, slamming into the other's gut, before he dropped down and swept the dark-haired vampire's feet from under him.

A knife flashed in the darkness as her teammate dropped down on one knee and sliced the downed vampire across the throat. With her night vision scope, she could see the dark stain of blood as it poured from the wound against the paleness of the vampire's skin. Then it was washed away as she witnessed a bottle of holy water emptied over his neck. Smoke rose from the vampire and a terrible noise ripped through the quiet night as the holy water burned his skin. It abruptly cut off as his voice box melted away.

The knife flashed again, this time over the downed vampire's eyes, tearing them from their sockets. His nose went next, then his tongue as the camouflaged figure forcibly ripped open the vampire's mouth. She watched with macabre glee as each finger was sliced from the body, then both hands.

The figure then slit the vamp from neck to navel and pulled something from his pocket. She saw the strange shape to the grenade as the pin was yanked, then shoved into the downed vampire's body. Her teammate stood and sprinted away.

Five seconds later, Manuel Santiago's pieces hit the ground and turned into dust.

"T-hargit limnated," Spike's quiet voice came over the radio.

"Big time," Buffy commented, rolling to her feet and shouldering her rifle.

"All teams, report back at HQ," Willow said.

Sauntering out of the darkness, Spike reached her side and gave her a cocky grin. His telltale blond hair was braided and looped through the unremovable ring embedded in his neck, the top covered by a black watch-cap. Dark face-paint smudged his features and Buffy thought he'd never looked better.

"Hey, soldier-boy," she said. "Care to escort a helpless woman to safety?"

‘Who says you would be safe with me?' Spike signed. Although the blond vampire knew how to speak once again, it was still very difficult, and he preferred to sign. He and Buffy had continued their American Sign Language classes and had rose through the levels at a fast rate, allowing them to communicate with each other easily. ‘I could be dangerous.'

"Oh, I think I could handle you." She looked him over from head to toe, then gave him a wolfish grin.

His hands snaked out like lightning, yanking her bodily to him. "Haandl awhay," he told her, rubbing his pelvis against hers.

Buffy wove her leg between his and sent them both falling to the ground, with her on top. They began kissing madly, oblivious to the voices coming over the receivers in their ears.

"Are they at it again?" Cordelia sighed.

"Sounds like it," Willow replied.

"Insatiable," Ethan commented. "Reminds me of us in the good old days, Ripper."

"Ethan, shut up," Giles said.

"You'd think they'd at least wait until we turned off the radios," Angel complained.

"It does make for some interesting entertainment," Oz interjected.

"Hey G-man," Xander said. "Does this mean you're a Listener?"

 

 

End

 

-Pornographic Poem (1965), John Giorno

Seven Cuban  
army officers  
in exile  
were at me  
all night.  
Tall,  
sleek,  
slender,  
Hispanic types  
with smooth dark  
muscular bodies  
and hair  
like wet coal  
on their heads  
and between their legs.  
I lost count  
of the times  
I was fucked  
by them  
in every conceivable  
position.  
At one point  
they stood  
around me  
in a circle  
and I had  
to crawl  
from one crotch  
to another  
sucking  
on each cock  
until it was hard.  
When I got all  
seven up,  
I shivered  
looking up  
at those erect pricks,  
all different lengths  
and widths,  
and knowing  
that each one  
was going up  
my ass hole.

Everyone  
came  
at least twice  
and some three times.  
Once they put me  
on the bed  
kneeling,  
one fucked me  
in the behind,  
another face fucked  
my mouth,  
while I jacked off  
one  
with each hand,  
and two others  
rubbed  
their dicks  
on my bare feet  
waiting  
their turns  
to get  
in my butt.  
Just when I thought  
they were all spent,  
two of them  
got together,  
and fucked me  
at once.  
The positions  
we were in  
were crazy,  
but with two  
big fat  
Cuban cocks  
up my ass  
at one time,  
I was  
in paradise.

 

 

END


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